The voice of Hunger
by B.D. Skunkworks
Summary: Alexandre Deacon is 18 years old. This is his final reaping. He wants nothing more than to have the rest of his life to live. But fate is indeed cruel. Original characters/some harsh language.
1. Chapter 1 Don't fear the reaper

Chapter 1

*Don't fear the reaper*

Reaping day. Again. For me, the seventh; the final time. I push myself up to one elbow and stare at the wall; it stares back. Just one more. If I can survive just one more, maybe I can live long enough to starve to death. I raise myself to a sitting position and in one motion tap my forehead, the center of my chest, my left and right shoulders. The sign of the cross. There's a sudden and somewhat violent knock on the wooden door. "UP! UP NOW! They're not gonna hold up the reaping just 'cuse you little bastards wanna sleep in!" It was the voice of the community homes' head mistress, Mrs. Langfordy.

"Fuck you," I only dare whisper this, if she were to hear me, it would surely result in a beating. As if potentially having my whole life stolen from me in a little over an hour weren't punishment enough. I pull myself from the bed and walk to my small bathroom. I don't bother washing up, I just stare look into my mirror; right into my reflection's eyes, which for some reason, refuse to stare back. '_..Why then is god still protecting me, even though I don't deserve it…'_ I sing a piece of this ancient song softly to myself from time to time. People never hear or understand what I'm saying; they just see my mouth moving and assume I'm talking to myself. That's why they think I'm crazy.

I dress simply in my black shirt and black pants and exit my stuffy little room. My room is on the second floor at the very rear of the corridor. Which means I get to walk passed all the doors hiding all the kids I couldn't possibly care less about. Never, not once since the age of twelve when I was brought to this place, have I made an attempt to socialize with any of these kids. There's no point. Firstly, because I hate every last one of them. And secondly, even if I get to know one of them personally; form some kind of friendship; they go and get reaped. Our stay in this place is only temporary; for more than one reason.

Mrs. Langfordy and the houses' population of forty children are lined up in the lobby. "Everyone accounted for?" she said while combing the congregation with her sharp black eyes. "Doesn't even matter. I've a feeling we'll be coming back one light today anyway." She opened the door and we obediently filed outside into the gray afternoon light. The day was overcast; cloudy; breezy; cold; with a light rain beginning to fall.

Perfect reaping weather.

The community home was just outside a scruffy little slice of district twelve that they call the seam. It's where most of the coal miners live, and I have the pleasure of watching those sad defeated people file back and forth to their shifts in the mines from my bedroom window. Great fucking view. We march in uniform single file through the town, with the youngest kids in front and the oldest in the back. I'm bringing up the rear. We join up with citizens from town as we make our way to the square. For such a large mass of humanity, we are completely silent; not one word uttered. Words will be saved for later, after the horror.

We reach the square and the capitol workers begin to file us in one by one. I cast a look around the square, but this day of the year never changes. The square looks the same as it always does; decrepitly festive with rain-sodden banners hanging limply from every building; cameras on every rooftop; frightened children everywhere; and anxious parents; each one praying against the impossible possibility that their child will be called forth to their death.

My finger is pricked by a hash looking capitol man in a white coat and pressed into a record page. Now they know I still exist; like it would matter if I didn't. I'm appointed to the roped section of eighteen year olds where I stand and stare at the stage. I work up a bead of blood from my pricked index finger and make the sign of the cross over myself with it. '…_Standing alone in the wind and rain, feeling the fear that is growing…_' The boy on my left shoots me look and makes a point to slide a few inches away from me.

Everything; everyone is dead silent, waiting for the event to begin. And then from the double doors of the justice building comes the hostess of the reaping, the same one we've had for six years. Madilynne Love. She's just like everyone else from the capitol; Completely dense; stupid; stenciled; stapled; and heartless. Her long sky blue hair falls to her waist and matches her chosen dress for this year. Her enlarged eyelashes give off sparks of the same hue as she flutters them for the cameras. "Happy hunger games!" she chirps theatrically. "And may the odds be _ever _in your favor!" I get the feeling that Madilynne is still quite young, but with her being from the capitol, it's impossible to tell.

"My, my, my, so many fresh young faces this year!" she trills. A collective shudder runs through the stillness. This bitch can't wait to watch us die. "Now before we begin, we have a special film for you all; reaping veterans and newcomers alike!" The enormous screens around us flare to life with the 'special film' , the same one we've been watching for years. I've memorized all the words. To put it succinctly; it's supposed to work you up. As the narrator drones one about the great war and the birth of Panem. The dark days and the inauguration of the Hunger games. Supposedly, it is an honor to be chosen as a tribute to the capitol. The video can use words like "honor" "courage" "heroic" all it wants to, but they fool no one. In district twelve, to be reaped is to be killed. It's that simple.

The video comes to a brassy and blaring end and Madilynne bursts into enthusiastic applause. "Such wonderful production, no?" she says. No one agrees, obviously. "So now the time has come again to choose one brave boy and girl to represent district twelve in the thirty-third annual Hunger games!" I notice the parents around the perimeter clutch each other for support. "First, the ladies." Madilynne click-clacks in her high-heeled shoes to the reaping ball that holds the name of every girl in district twelve. She inserts her hand and digs deeply into the paper slips, with much shifting and rustling back and forth. She even puts on a face of playful concentration as she selects a slip. Finally she withdraws her hand and slowly walks back to the microphone with the slip held high. I couldn't possibly care less whose name was on it; just another little girl on her way to her death. No consequence to me. Madilynne unfolds the slip and says into the microphone, "Bella Fortune!"

There's a small disturbance in the girls' sixteen year old section. Many of them form a wide berth around the reaping victim. A black-haired girl walks to the isle and is accompanied to the stage by two peacekeepers. Though she's only sixteen, she's dressed like a woman. A one piece jet-black dress adorns her. It comes all the way to her ankles which are hidden by spike heeled boots. Her flowing black hair matches her ensemble perfectly. I'd go out on a limb and say she was attractive, but I don't have a thing for dead girls.

Bella joins Madilynne on the stage and faces the crowd. Her image is projected on every screen across the square. A close up on her face shows her staring defiantly back at us with her glossy midnight eyes.

Suddenly there's another disturbance; this time in the boys seventeen year old section. "No!" a boy rushes out of line and beelines for the stage. "NO! NO! PLEASE!" he bounds onto the stage and Bella rushes into his arms. He embraces her protectively as he shouts to Madilynne "I volunteer! I volunteer to take her place as tribute!"

There are gasps throughout the crowd. Bella's voice is amplified by the microphone. "Rorick, no! I'll go. I can't watch you die!"

Madilynne overlaps her hands over her heart and lets out a romantically pained moan. "Oh, such valiance! But unfortunately, the rules state that someone cannot volunteer for a tribute of the opposite gender. Oh, if only you were female!"

Peacekeepers march onto the stage to remove the young man. Rorick and Bella are entwined in what will most likely be their final kiss as they are forced apart and Rorick lead away. He's screaming "I love you, Bella!" and she screams it back. For a moment; just for a moment, I feel something. But it's either too unfamiliar, or been too long since I've felt it and it quickly fades away. This has been an eventful reaping.

Madilynne puts her arms around Bella's shoulders as she sighs. "Oh young love, torn so tragically asunder!" Bella sobs in response. "All the more motivation for you to emerge as victor! Being able to come back to your beloved will be a driving force for you, won't it?" Bella fights for control of her emotions as she stares at her companion, still being restrained by peacekeepers. "Well now, time to move forward with things. It's time for the selection of our gentleman tribute!" Madilynne scoots over to the boys reaping ball and with the same apparent deliberation as before, selects a slip. She saunters to the microphone and unfolds the paper.

This is it. The result of my final mandatory reaping. After this, I'll finally be free. From the Hunger games anyway. I'll more than likely be confined to work the coal mines for the rest of my life. But that I will have; the rest of my life. There's no way I'll be chosen. I think of the seam families, all the tesserae they have no doubt taken. It will be one of them. I am safe. I will be alive. I will be free. And then Madilynne reads the name. "Alexandre Deacon!"

And just like that, I have died.

-End of chapter 1-

…...

A/N :

Ugh! Arggh! Should I be doing this? Probably not. No I shouldn't. I've got one fic on hiatus, one currently in progress, and now this? My brain is a cluttered thing…


	2. Chapter 2 Smile for the voyeur

Chapter 2

*Smile for the voyeur*

I don't bother telling myself that this can't be happening; because it is, there's no way around it. Despite everything I had hoped against, my life ends at eighteen years of age. It's only at this moment do I realize just how much of the mist-like rain my clothing has absorbed, my shirt seems to have tripled in weight as I take my first few steps into the isle. The peacekeepers flank me on either side as they escort me to the stage. Madilynne is waiting with her hand outstretched as I climb the wooden stairs. "Up you go, darling," she says to me.

I take my position in the right side of the stage and stare directly at the floor. Rainwater runs down my bangs and into my eyes. An outside observer may mistake these for tears, but I will never allow the capitol to take a single tear from me. Never.

Madilynne pipes up as she says into the microphone, "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Bella Fortune and Alexandre Deacon, your district twelve tributes!" She twirls her hands in her gesture towards us for some kind of vainglorious emphasis, which no one takes notice of. The crowd is in some kind of stupor. Every eye in the district is on us, yet I doubt they can truly see what's happening here. It's not surprising. Over the years, the people have built up a sort of defense mechanism against this. Tune out mentally, and you can't be hurt emotionally.

The anthem of Panem blares around us, and again, no one seems to be taking notice. When the music ends, Madilynne turns to us and says brightly, "Now, shake hands like sportsmen you two!" Bella turns to me stiffly and offers her hand . I oblige by keeping my eyes locked on the wood grain of the stage and jamming my hands into my pockets. Madilynne looks around and chuckles nervously, clearly unsure of what to make of this unprecedented display. She regains herself as she says, "Well, alrighty then. It's time to depart. Thank you citizens of district twelve for your compliance, and have a happy hunger games!" peacekeepers come to escort us off the stage and into the justice building. I've been inside this place only once before, when I was brought here to be appointed to the community home. Now I've returned; to be appointed to the capitol.

I'm directed to a room at the end of a long corridor and watched over by a peacekeeper. This is the part where you're allotted time to say goodbye to any loved ones. I have no loved ones…anymore. I don't bother sitting down, I just lean against the wall next to the door. I make the sign of the cross over myself. "_…Now that your faith will be put to the test, nothing to do but await what is coming…"_

I don't want you to get the wrong idea, with all this sign of the cross business; I am not religious; not in the least. I live in Panem, in district twelve of all places. I was just handed a death sentence by being reaped by the capitol. I know for a fact that there is no god. This whole mantra is just something my mother instilled in me. Since before I can remember she taught me to make the sign, and I've been doing ever since. Before every meal, before bed, when I wake, or whenever my inner strength wavers. But it carries no more weight for me; it's now just a simple reflex.

My mother truly believed in god, and of a better place somewhere after this existence. I'm sure she found it when she was murdered by my father. I was twelve when this happened. Coming home from school and seeing peacekeepers surrounding my house. Thirty minutes, later Demargo Deacon was pronounced dead; Patrick Deacon pronounced insane and socially inept; and I was pronounced and orphan. So standing here staring across the comfortable fancy room, I knew no one would come say goodbye to me. I just use this time to reflect inwardly.

The peacekeeper enters the room and tells me time is up. I follow behind him and I'm lead out of the building. There's a car waiting outside, a fancy car. It has a stretched body and tinted windows, but I can't remember what this kind of car is called. The interior is beautiful except for one thing. Sitting in the seat across from me is none other than Madilynne Love. "Hello again, dear Alexandre!" she chirps. "Tell me, how was your parting hour?" I stare right into her strange sky blue eyes and say nothing. "Ooh, so full of secrets this one is," she twills mindlessly.

I wonder if she knows how much I hate her.

Between my silence and Madilynne's banal remarks, the ride passes quickly. We arrive at the train station and we leave the car. As I expected, we are surrounded by camera crews, all trying to get a good look at the silent tributes' reaction. Another long car pulls up to the station and Bella steps out. The cameras immediately drink up her image. It's clear by the redness of her eyes that she has been crying, and recently. She makes eye contact with no one as she fingers a silver choker around her neck. Madilynne ushers us up the stairs and to the waiting train. We stop once again as we're instructed to turn and face the cameras before we disembark for the capitol. Bella sobs quietly, I stare at the ground, and Madilynne strikes an extravagant pose for the cameras, clearly enjoying the attention. We board the train and in a flash, we're off to the capitol.

Next stop, death's door.


	3. Chapter 3 I'm used to used to

Chapter 3

*I'm used to used to*

I've never been on a train before. And I never will again, or that's just the feeling I get. "Well now, the first thing we want to do is make sure the two of you are comfortable," says Madilynne. Make sure we're comfortable? Not delivering us to certain death would have been a great fucking start. "I'll go see if they're ready in the dinning room. Don't move you two!" Madilynne winks and heads for the dinning compartment. I immediately take a seat on the right hand side of the isle, at the window. The country scape blurs by us at interminable speeds. We must be doing a hundred miles per hour easy, yet the train barely feels like it's moving at all. Bella waffles slightly at the isle seat, and at length, decides to join me. I advert my gaze from the window to the front of the compartment, but still pay her no attention. I make the sign of the cross over myself. "I've seen you do that several times," Bella says in a somewhat cowed voice. "Do you believe in god?" her voice is but a whisper.

I continue staring strait ahead and let several moments pass. Eventually I give her a slow answer. "I'm sitting here on a train next to a girl that I have to murder in order to stay alive, _if_ she doesn't kill me first. What do you think?"

"What does it mean then? Why do you make the sign?"

Why she presses me, I don't know. There's something she's seeking, that much I can tell. But I think it's something from herself, rather than from me. "It means that I'm alive, and that I can carry on what I've been taught in that time. Nothing more." I finally turn to face the girl. "Do you believe?"

Bella adjusts her silver choker before giving an almost inaudible, "I used to."

The door to the dinning compartment clatters open and Madilynne returns with a beaming, "Dinner is waiting for us! Come! Come! Come!" Bella rises and follows Madilynne. I do so as well, but slowly. The dinning car is elegantly decorated with thick carpets and oil paintings. Looking closely at them I can see they depict scenes from past Hunger games. A tribute standing over a wounded opponent. A golden cornucopia shining in the sunlight. A lone victor crowned king amongst the fallen. The Hunger games…didn't really do much for my hunger.

I sat at the white-clothed table and made a point to slide my chair a few inches away from Madilynne, who was on my right. Then we were served by several white- suited young people. I knew them. They were called Avoxes. They had their tongues cut out by the capitol so they could no longer speak. I didn't know what brought this particular punishment upon them, but I'm sure it was something that only the good old capitol would find a fitting means for. As I looked down at my plate heaped with fine roast beef, carrots and mashed potatoes, I took a silent moment to remorse for these sad people. I made the sign of the cross over myself. _"…And the guilty will bleed when the moment comes, they'll be coming to claim; take your soul away…"_

Madilynne gives me a curious look but chooses to remain silent. And that's how the rest of the meal progresses. Silently. Course after course is put before us, with no sound except the occasional tinkle of wine glasses or slight clattering of removed dinnerware. It doesn't appear to be within Madilynne's nature or ability to remain quiet for any length of time, for she insists on trying to make awkwardly polite small talk with us. Failing that, she just pouts into her angel food cake for a while.

Surprisingly, it's Bella who breaks the lethargy. "Um, perhaps we should take a look at the other reapings while there's time?"

"Splendid!" Madilynne says. Clearly she's grateful for _something_ to talk about. We follow her to a side compartment with a huge couch and a flat panel television. Upon our entry, the television flashes to life automatically. You have to love the capitol. Before we're even seated, the screen is airing the reapings, starting, of course, with district one.

The events just seem to fly by. Almost every scene on the screen is the same. Almost. The notable exceptions are the lower districts. One, two, three, four, and five. There it's different. Being called in the reaping is considered by most to be the richest reward on can receive in life. All too many are willing to volunteer for the chance to enter the arena. Just watching this is making me feel sick, but I know I have to at least get a look at our fellow tributes; our competition. The career tributes from the lower districts all have the same look about them; tall; lean; well-fed; athletic; and deadly. I don't know what any of their particular skills may be, but they most certainly look formidable.

District seven holds a surprise. The girls reaping winner is announced and it turns out to be an unremarkable thirteen year old. She doesn't get halfway to the stage before a voice rings out to volunteer. It's an sixteen year old girl. She has that career look about her, which is uncommon for her particular district. Maybe she's just naturally endowed with those slender muscles and long limbs. The host of the district seven reaping, Odysseus Reedman, asks the girls' name. "Compass Rose," she says confidently into the microphone.

"Well, Compass, that was an amazing thing you did there. District seven hasn't had a volunteer for thirteen years! What brought on your decision?"

"The thrill of competition!" was the girls response.

Madilynne gushes delightedly as Bella shakes her head. The rest of the reapings flash by in the usual haze of tears, anger, fear, and lack of any volunteers. Watching our own district twelve reaping is something of a shock. Never once had I thought I'd see myself on television, especially not for this reason. The scene where Bella's lover, Rorick, rushes the stage is too much for her to take. She breaks down and leaves the room, her face hidden in her hands. And then the anthem plays and the event is over.

"My my! What an event we'll have this year!" Madilynne says excitedly. I leave her to her vices as I leave the room. I head down the corridor to my own quarters. My room is directly across from Bella's. Her door is standing slightly ajar and I'm able to see her curled up on her bed crying into a pillow. That feeling stirs inside me again. What was this called?…it's…it's…. I choose to ignore it.

Where I'm going, I can't afford to have a heart.


	4. Chapter 4 Seven thousand miles for what?

Chapter 4

*Seven thousand miles for what?*

Sleep…I don't how to feel about it. Time still passes normally; seconds become minutes; minutes become hours. The only difference is, you don't notice any of it; so blissfully unaware of the march of reality. Sometimes this can be a good thing, like now. I awake to the squeaking of the trains wheels and roll out of the bed. I make the sign of the cross over myself and stare into the distance for a while. _"…Why a I meant to face this alone? Asking the question time and again…" _I am still wearing my reaping outfit, my simple long-sleeved black shirt and matching pants. Though I know these drawers hold many rich outfits for me to wear, I refuse to touch any of them.

I exit my room and head to the dinning compartment. Out of the window I can see it's still quite early; the sun had not yet risen. I hear the drone of the television from the sitting room and go to investigate. Bella is sitting there on the couch in front of the television, her knees tucked up to her chest, resting her chin on a pillow. She's watching re-runs of past Hunger Games. I'm just in time to be treated to a muscular male tribute strangling a twelve year old female tribute with his bare hands. Blood vessels have broken in her eyeballs, staining the whites crimson as she desperately claws at his face with her fingernails in an attempt to break his iron grip on her throat.

"Some show isn't it?" I say as the girls' cannon goes off.

"I remember the victor from this year," Bella says slowly.

"Which year is this?"

"Twenty-second."

"Ivory. District one female," I say knowingly.

"I was five when these Games first aired," Bella continued. "I remember her interview by heart. She said, _"I'm not going to win these games because I want to. I'm going to win these games because I have to."_ I cheered for her the whole way. She seemed to possess something that the other tributes didn't."

"Which was what?" I ask her.

"A sense of…herself. Everyone else was so aware that it was all just a show for the capitol. But Ivory was the only one who seemed to know what, or rather _who_ was truly at stake. I'm still surprised no one volunteered for her; that's what makes her being victor so much more meaningful."

"Do _you_ see yourself like that?" I asked her.

Bella shakes her head slowly. "I don't have it in me. I already know it's a show. Every prying eye in Panem watching us kill each other off. How can you ignore that?"

You couldn't, there was no way. To the capitol, it's all just a spectacle. The lives of these lesser life forms on the screens mean nothing to them. The screen now shows Ivory's victory coronation. She sits in the golden throne of honor with her support team; her mentor; her preps; and her stylists. She watches the recap of the events with unblinking eyes. She's not in shock, but I gather she's determined to watch resolutely, as though the least she can do to honor her fellow tributes is watch their deaths without despair.

Ivory herself had a legendary kill that's still talked about today. The terrain the arena held was more or less boulders and plains. Ivory stuck to the boulders as she felt they granted her ample cover and protection. A male tribute attacked her, I think he was from district four. He wielded a vicious two-handed axe. Ivory was amazingly calm as he lured him to her trap. She has rigged this particular section of the arena to her favor with her knowledge of inertia and equilibrium, which was unheard of for someone from district one.

She had rigged two enormous slabs of rock in an 'L' formation just ten yards to her back. The district four tribute swung his axe wildly, missing his target again and again, each miss bringing him closer to his end. In exhaustion and frustration, he charged headlong at Ivory trying to tackle her. She stepped easily out of the way and allowed the boy to fall onto the slab of stone. And in one easy motion, Ivory yanked a length of wire that was wrapped around a series of sturdy poles that held the second stone in it's 'L' shape. The stone fell onto the boy, absolutely crushing him.

"Getting into the spirit, I see!" Madilynne's sing-song voice brought us back eleven years into the future. "Breakfast is on, if you would be interested at all."

Bella rose and followed Madilynne. I waited just a few moments before following suit. In the doorway, I was able to catch the last piece of Ivory's final interview with Caesar Flickerman. "I did it for _me_, Caesar, and for no one else. No one cared about me in the arena except me. I didn't want to kill those other kids, but I had to, for me. Don't you understand?"

I did understand. Suddenly what Bella said made complete sense to me. I gave Ivory a silent nod as I headed for the dining room.

We had scrambled eggs, thick slices of ham, and pancakes the size of our plates for breakfast. Afterwards, I went to sit alone in the viewing car. It was a special train car where all the walls were made of crystal, allowing you to see everything from all sides. Bella joined me just as the car went dark; we were rolling through the tunnel leading up to the capitol. Something about Bella's presence annoyed me, why was she by my side all the time? Didn't she know we were enemies? Maybe I needed the company…who knows?

We broke through the tunnel as the Capitol shown through the windows. Just as it looked on the television. Every building was taller than the last; each one some violent hue that strained your eyes. To our backs was an enormous crystal lake that shimmered in the late morning sunlight.

"Seven thousand miles," Bella said quietly.

"Huh?"

"It's about seven thousand miles from district twelve to the capitol."

"Somehow I doubt that," was my response.

Bella fingered her silver choker. "The distance is more than physical…"

I blew air through my nose in disgust. "Seven thousand miles for what?"

Seven thousand miles to die, that's what.

…...

I've been in the remake center for two hours now, and my prep team hasn't touched me. I refuse to let them. There are two of them, an man and a woman named Jethro and Corduroy. Jethro wore a Mohawk that was about thirty feet tall and colored purple; his clothing followed suit. Corduroy would have at least been attractive enough, if both her breasts weren't hanging out. Her dress literally stopped at her chest, leaving them completely exposed, save for having her nipples glittered over.

Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with these people?

"Well if you're just going to sit there and pout, then there's nothing we can do for you," Corduroy says. Her voice is insanely pitched, at least ten octaves higher than what would be considered normal. It makes me flinch.

"We could have made you look amazing, you know?" Jethro says sadly. "We may as well call Dazzle." They exit the room, Jethro having to duck his head to clear the doorway. To hell with them; every last one of them. They make me up all pretty to dance around like a pageant doll just to have me killed in a few days. I'm having none of this shit.

Just then the door to the room opens and in steps Dazzle. I'm shocked. She looks to be my age, younger even. Her features are still normal, yet untouched by factious capitol trends. Her skin is pure white and her hair a rich red-brown. The only thing capitol about her is contact lenses, which cause her eyes to change color every time she blinks. "Hello, my name is Dazzle," she says.

"Sounds like a district one name," I say.

The girl smiles. "I am from district one," she says back. "I attend beauty school there. As part of my graduation, I was assigned to be district twelve's stylist."

"Well don't bother," I say hostilely.

"I heard you had that attitude," Dazzle says with another smile. "I actually like it." She took my silence as question. "Think about it. What is my job here? To make you look unforgettable to the audience, right. But what if we make you unforgettable, by making you forgettable?" More silence from me. "You could be the first tribute in Hunger Games history to present yourself to the capitol strictly as you are, no make up, no enhancements, no anything. You'll be remarkable by being completely unremarkable."

I guess there was a certain logic to what she was saying, although I'm sure she's simply trying to make the best of an awkward situation. Dazzle stands me up and gives my clothing a few tugs and adjustments. She sweeps me over with jet-black eyes, and then they turn ice blue as she says, "Perfect."

In the stable, Bella's support crew are horrified to see me emerge from the remake center looking so gloriously normal. "My word, he's hideous!" says Bella's female stylist. This coming form the bitch with skin tattooed like snake scales.

Dazzle winks at her, causing her right eye to turn purple while her left remains green. "Trust me," she says.

They position us in our horse-drawn chariot and I get a good look at Bella. Her stylists chose to stay with Bella's midnight black theme. Now she wears a mourning dress complete with a veil and a bouquet of black roses. She looks like a widow. "Pretty awful, huh?" she says. I give a non-committal shrug. "At least I'm not naked and covered in coal dust…"

The other tributes are lined up ahead of us, with us being district twelve, we bring up the rear, so it's hard to get a good look at our competition from here. The capitol's anthem booms from the hidden speakers around us and our chariots are pulled one by one into the city.

*End of chapter four*

…...

**Yes reader, you hold in your hand a cordial invitation to the greatest show in the capitol!**

**The 33****rd**** Hunger Games are here!**

**The anticipation is at a fever pitch! Which brave tribute will emerge as this years victor? Only time will tell. **

**The opening ceremonies begin at 9:00 PM sharp, your first chance to see the tributes up close! Grab a friend, place your bets and let the games begin!**

**Special guest commentators Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith offer insight into our brilliant stylist's designs!**

**And below, ever for your enlightenment, are the names of the twenty-four brave souls who will venture into the arena! Twenty-four go in, only one comes out!**

**District 1**

**Girl- Eureka Hearthstriker**

**Boy- Diamond Sutra**

**District 2**

**Girl- Ilene Southworth**

**Boy- Trigger Suresight**

**District 3**

**Girl- Persephone Redfield**

**Boy- Fiddler Goodman**

**District 4**

**Girl- Gloria Tidesender**

**Boy- Sullivan Highwind**

**District 5**

**Girl- Roxanne Maestro**

**Boy- Julian Zephr **

**District 6**

**Girl-Meredith Wingstar**

**Boy- Kaiser Viridian**

**District 7**

**Girl- Compass Rose**

**Boy- Juniper Fade**

**District 8**

**Girl- Sunny Undershade**

**Boy- Italy Vespa**

**District 9**

**Girl- Lily Amberseed**

**Boy- Rye Waverly **

**District 10**

**Girl- Wynn Parish**

**Boy- Toro Hornstead **

**District 11**

**Girl- Conifer Daily**

**Boy- Cypress Dogwood**

**District 12**

**Girl- Bella Fortune**

**Boy- Alexandre Deacon**

**Recaps of the tribute parade will air at 10:00 PM. Be sure to tune in! And as always, have a Happy Hunger Games!**

…**...**

- Capitol advertisement flyer for the 33rd hunger games opening ceremonies.


	5. Chapter 5 Strength for whom?

Chapter 5

*Strength for whom?*

The tribute parade. I've seen this dozens of times on television. But it's something I never thought, or hoped, that I would experience for myself. All five of my human senses were on startled alert. There just didn't seem to be enough time to process the rush of all that was happening.

We were first hit with a crash of noise so great that my ears had trouble picking it all up at once. Our horses guided us along expertly across the capitol streets. The citizens were on all sides of us roaring in approval of their favorite outfitted tributes. The anthem of Panem blasted through hidden speakers in the buildings. The roar of the crowd; the blast of the anthem; the lights that washed over us; it was all blinding, deafening, and mesmerizing.

Bella waved somewhat meekly to the crowd and did her best to maintain a big smile. I was doing no such thing. Though I knew that this was the best time to possibly win sponsors; their contributions can and will mean the difference between life and death; I was still a bit shell-shocked at the moment. Though I did notice that I was getting my fare share of points and stares; the garish citizens of the capitol hardly daring to believe that a tribute- from district twelve no less- had the guts, and the audacity, to show up without a costume.

We were pulling into the city center now, a huge circular space illuminated like day-lit night time. Our chariots were aligned in a huge semi-circle around the square. And there, on an elevated podium, with a view of the entire square, was the president of Panem.

Julius Pharaoh.

By normal standards, he appeared to be on the precipice of the title 'old man'; just barely approaching middle-aged. Though his close-cropped blond hair was still remarkably full and bright, and his grey eyes still had not lost their sharpness, there was still a kind of years-earned aura of quiet authority about him, and it had nothing to do with him being president.

He raised his right hand and took all twenty-four us into the same salute. After he quieted the raucous crowd he began his speech. "Welcome, tributes of the districts!" though he spoke in a normal conversational tone, his voice was amplified ten-fold by hidden microphones. "And know that your courage and valor as of right now have no human equal!" The crowd roared it's approval.

I leaned into Bella, "It's takes valor to be handed a death sentence? Give me a fucking break." She smiled nervously through her veil.

"And always. Have a Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" With a final wave, our chariots were pulled into the stable of the enormous training center. Once inside, we were met with our stylists and prep teams.

"Did I do alright?" was my first question to Dazzle.

"You did good. You managed to get the exact reaction that I hoped you would," she said as she patted my shoulder. Bella's stylist, the one with the snake skin tattoos, shot me an angry look, possibly because I got more attention than her tribute did without even dressing up. Now that she was staring dead at me, I could see the her eyes were yellow with narrow vertical slits for pupils. Just like a snake. "Let's get you settled into the suit, huh?" Dazzle said, sensing her partner's gaze.

It was quite a nice elevator ride to the top of the training center. Looking through the clear elevator shafts as the ground seemed to drop out of sight entirely. "Oh, it really is beautiful…" Bella sighed.

"Don't let it fool you," I said to her. "Remember why we're here, and _then _tell me how beautiful it is."

Bella said nothing more the whole ride. Upon reaching the top floor, we stepped out into a luxurious penthouse that easily could have been for the president himself. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ornate ceiling, the plush rugs were thick and springy, and everything seemed to glow with a somewhat un-natural shine. Taking it all in, I wondered, if all the district twelve tributes before us had the same reaction.

Even Dazzle seemed mesmerized by the capitol beauty. It's a shame that only one thing could ruin it…

"Ah. Yes. Welcome, welcome!" said an irritatingly pitched voice behind us. Madilynne Love had just stepped off the elevator and was scooting hurriedly towards us. Since the reaping, her chosen color has gone from sky-blue, to emerald-green. "Quite the sight, isn't it?" After she made a fuss over showing us our rooms, how to work all the buttons on all the devices on all the things I'm sure I wouldn't have time to mess with, it was time for dinner.

The dinning room resembled that of the car from the train, only about four times bigger. I seated myself next to Dazzle and we were all served by more of the red-suited Avoxes. The table was spread with more delicacies than I could eat, some of which I never heard of. I think back to the community home. While we didn't exactly eat like kings, were weren't really starved either, not like the seam families, for which food was a foreign four letter word.

My plate was loaded with everything that I could reach; I made the sign of the cross over myself, and I dug in. I noticed the snake woman staring at me again, and this time, I opted to engage her. "What the _fuck_ are you lookin' at?"

The woman grinned in a less-than-amused kind of way and said, seemingly more to Dazzle than to me, "A good question, maybe _somebody_ would care to answer it for me?"

"Seriously, Medusa, lay off," Dazzle said somewhat tiredly, as though she had been through this routine with her before. Bella gave me a tight-lipped grin from across the table and the rest of the meal proceeded silently.

After dinner I sat on the bed of my room. I was staring directly into the blank screen of the television. Part of me wanted to switch it on and watch the re-run of the tribute parade, but for some reason, I was unable to do so. Maybe I was afraid to look into the faces of my opposing tributes, which was the worst fear to have, seeing as we would all be gathered up for the first day of training tomorrow. I flopped backwards into the bed, my feet still planted on the floor. An interminable time seemed to pass, and somehow, without me knowing, I fall asleep.

…...

Training was to commence at 10:00 am. It was just a little before then that we piled into the elevator and took the ride down to the gymnasium. Dazzle didn't come with us, it was just me and Bella. We had received our training jumpsuits earlier this morning and zippered into them. They were slightly elastic and just rugged enough to stand up to the rigors of physical exertion. The doors slid open with a clang that seemed to echo throughout the immense space. The gymnasium was well lit and held every exercise from weight lifting, hand-to-hand combat training, weapons instruction, survival lessons, rope climbing, camouflage, and just about everything else you could think of.

Me and Bella slowly approached the circle of tributes. Once we joined, I was keen to get a good look at each of them, though I was careful to avoid their eyes. The lower district tributes looked even more lethal up close than on television; taller; more muscular; and just plain menacing. They were way out of my league. The tributes from the higher districts looked more my speed. They looked frightened and clearly intimidated in the face of their competition. Except for the district seven girl. I remember her clearly from her volunteering at the reaping. Compass Rose. She was even more impressive up close. About a head taller than I was, she stared down the career tributes with her narrow green eyes. She was not afraid.

The head trainer, named Genoa, joined the circle and began his opening instructions. "Welcome, tributes. Today is your first of three days of training. It is our job to teach you everything there is to know about combat and survival. Needless to say, once the games begin, twenty-three of you will be killed. Whether it's by a fellow competitor, or by the elements, will depend exactly on how you heed what I'm about to tell you.

The Hunger Games are not just about combat, they are about _survival_. Learning to use a weapon is a recommended priority, but never, ever, overlook the basic means of keeping yourself alive. Food and shelter are how you will do this. Your opponents have their own arsenal, but nature wields weapons too; hunger; thirst; cold; and heat. Use these three days wisely, tributes. You may begin."

We were dismissed and the gym came alive with the sounds of combative exercises. I looked around, deciding where to start when Bella joined my side. "Um, so I was thinking…"

"Thinking what?" I said.

"That maybe we should work on complimentary skills. On the first day, you learn to use a weapon and I'll learn to gather food and start fires. And on the second day we switch roles and I'll-"

I cut her off with a wave of my hand and an incredulous look. "You're saying this as though I _want_ to partner up with you. We are _enemies_, Bella. Only one tribute comes out of the arena alive, and all the alliances in the world will never change that fact."

"We'll have a better chance at the onset if we pool our strengths, you know," Bella said timidly.

"Our strength?" I sighed. "Strength for whom, huh? For us? No. It's for them." I motioned my head up towards the game makers in their elevated seats, carefully watching all the tributes in action. "They just want to put on the best show possible for the audience, that's all.

And to my dismay, Bella started crying, right in the view of the game makers and our competition. She looked at me with her tear-stained face as she said "I know I don't have a chance, Alexandre, no chance at all. I just thought that…that…maybe we could make something of this. To just survive the first day; that would be victory to me, you know?"

I cast a look around. The careers were pointing and laughing at Bella, obviously seeing her as no threat what-so-ever. I looked back to her and said "Alright. Let's make something of this."

*End of Chapter 5*


	6. Chapter 6 Positive tension

Chapter 6

*Positive tension*

_WHAM!_ I was sprawled flat out on my back by a capitol trainer. Luckily, the floor was matted, so the fall was somewhat cushioned. "On your feet!" she barked at me. I failed to comply quickly enough and she pinned me down to the floor, her knee jammed in my throat. "This is just training, tribute," she said down to me. "Out in the arena, do you really think your opponents will give you time to rest? Recover? Not if they want to live. Killing you is their mission. Now, c'mon, show me you want to survive."

She released me and I raised myself to my feet. I clutched the four-foot metal sword in my right hand. It was just a practice weapon. Though it had the same weight and feel as the real thing, there were no edges to it, but I'm still sure I could do some damage with it. I turned my body sideways the way she showed me, to make myself a smaller target. She launched herself at me, expertly swinging her practice weapon, I managed to parry one, two, three of her blows, before the last one caught me in the stomach. I doubled over but didn't go down. Then she took me from behind and pretended to slit my throat with her weapon. "That'd twice I've killed you," she said. "You better learn fast or you'll be dead again tomorrow. Times up. Another tribute is waiting for a lesson." I replaced the sword on the rack and made way for the next student. Looking at their jumpsuit, I learned that it was the district ten male. Up close, he was shorter than me, but he was solidly built; wide shoulders and a broad, strong chest. He didn't even look at me as he started his lesson.

I moved on to agility. There was a course of strategically placed shallow holes in the floor that you were supposed to run as fast as you could through. I mastered this soon enough and then moved on to rock climbing. Then I did monkey bars, and finally just ran laps around the gymnasium.

An hour later I was seated on a bench gulping water from a plastic bottle, trying to ignore how sore my body was. I took a slow look around the gym. The careers were showing off, handling the deadliest of the weapons with practiced ease. They ran the obstacle courses with flying times and just generally seemed to be better than everyone else. The other tributes looked less sure with the weapons, and struggled with the endurance training. There were a few learning at the survival stations, one of them was Bella. She and the girl from district four were trying to light a fire. Upon success, the girl gave Bella a laugh and smile, which she returned without hesitating. '_Jesus Christ'_ I thought, '_She's trying to make friends'_ My thoughts were broken by a spear that landed right at my feet, driving itself into the thick foam matting. A tribute ran to retrieve it; the district two female. "Oh, sorry about that," she said with a sneer. "Didn't see you there." The bitch was being sarcastic of course. She can take that spear and go fuck herself with it.

The three hours of training was up and were returned to our quarters. I flopped down exhaustedly on the couch in front of the television. Bella joined me. She had a pen and notepad in her hands and was scribbling furiously. "What are you doing?" I asked her.

"Trying to remember everything I learned today," she said back. "We're not allowed to take notes in the gym, they'll think we're scoping everyone out."

"What did you learn?"

"The best things to make shelter from; starting fires with dead wood so it doesn't smoke too much; what wild flowers are safe to eat…"

"Sounds like fun," I said.

"Did you learn much in combat training?"

"Don't ask," I said back. "And on that note, it's your turn tomorrow to get your ass kicked. I'm going to take a shower."

The hot driving water of the shower worked my muscles loose, which had packed themselves into hard knots after the day's training. I flopped down on the bed with my hair still wet, and though it was still early, immediately fell into a deep black sleep.

…...

The second day of training saw me at the survival stations and Bella in combat training. Since she already learned fires and edible plants. I started with camouflage. I was shown how to coat my clothing with mud and bits of dead plant life to avoid detection of human eyes. I glanced over at Bella's progress to see something incredible. She was a whiz on the obstacle courses.

She simply flew through the agility bit; she scaled the cargo net without missing a beat; and when she reached the monkey bars, she opted to swing herself on top of them and run along them, using her forward momentum to carry her strait across. She leapt off the end and did a neat tuck and roll onto the floor. She was definitely getting some stares from the game makers.

My last lesson of the day was learning to rig snares to catch both animal and human prey. Rigging the thick branches together was a challenge; they were difficult to keep in place because they were drawn taught and kept snapping back. But after thirty minutes of constant work, I managed to leave the trainer daggling ten feet in the air by one foot.

Training ended and we retired to our floor. I recited everything I learned to Bella as she copied it into her note pad. "So tomorrow is the last training day, followed by private showings," Bella said. "I think we should stick together tomorrow; build on what we learned."

"You know, I like a take-charge girl, even if you are annoying as hell," I said back to her.

Before Bella could retort, Madilynne waved us into the dinning room with a chirping "Dinner is served! Come, come now!" Me and Bella went to dinner, still quietly discussing our strategies.

…...

We worked together on the third day, staying at the same stations. Despite only three days worth of learning, I had improved greatly with the sword, though I was still no match for the careers. Bella chose the spear as her weapon, and was sparring with a trainer. She managed to use the weapons' length and her uncanny agility to keep her opponent at bay.

Then we moved to sure up our survival knowledge. I watched as Bella expertly coaxed a blaze out of two sticks and some dead grass. I copied her example, but with poor results. We took a final rundown on how to separate toxic berries from edible ones, and then lunch was called. We sat together at a table in the far corner, discussing what we would show the game makers in the upcoming private showings. "Well, I'm faster than a lot of our closer competition, so I'll try to focus on that," Bella was saying. "If they see how agile I am, then maybe-" her words were cut off by the appearance of another tribute. It was the girl from four that worked fires with Bella. She stood sheepishly at the edge of the table for a moment before Bella said, "It's okay, you can sit down."

The girl sat down across from us and gave a quiet, "Hi…Bella."

"Oh, Alexandre, um…this is Gloria-"

"I don't give a fuck who she is," I muttered. Bella stared at the tablecloth. "I guess you really don't seem to realize what is going on here, do you? She is an enemy; we all are. We all may be human in this together, but we're all in it for ourselves in the end. This same bitch you're making friends with now is the one you're going to have to kill later. And people only die once, Bella, remember that." I got up and left the table. I pulled up a chair from an unused table and seated myself in a remote corner, isolated from view. I made the sign of the cross over myself. _"…They'll be bringing us all the eternal flame; they'll be bringing us all immortality…"_ If you win. And that's a _big_ if.

Soon they began to call the tributes one by one for the private sessions. I stared at the wall and listened to the districts scroll by. Soon me and Bella were told to leave the lunch hall. We sat together in a darkened corridor as we waited to be called. Though She was sitting right next to me, Bella felt about as close as the moon right now. There had been somewhat of a rift in our relationship since lunch; a kind of positive tension had formed between us, which wasn't really surprising.

Bella's hands were knotted in her lap as her leg jangled up and down. "Nervous?" I asked her.

"About what?" was her answer. "About all of this? The training, the Games? It's not like it's anything we can do anything about. It's not like we can ever run or ever escape; we can't run or hide it away…"

An automated female voice chimed in, _"Bella Fortune"_

She rose from her seat. "But I'll tell you this. Even if I have to use my teeth and my claws…I'm gonna make it happen." Then she disappeared through the door.

…...

An hour later we were eating dinner with our stylists and our escort. Bella was talking quietly to Medusa; probably about what she showed the game makers in private. She hasn't spoken to me since then. I was halfway through my second serving of strawberry pie and vanilla ice cream, when Dazzle gave me a sideways look, asking without words how my session went. As much as I liked Dazzle, I found myself unwilling to share that information, even with her. It's not like I was very impressive anyway. Knowing I had no one outstanding skill, I chose a more all-round approach. I picked up a sword and hacked the limbs off a few dummies, then climbed the vertical cargo net, and scaled the uphill treadmill. I struggled a little on my last demonstration on the rope wall, which I'm sure lost me points.

"So," chirped Madilynne. "The scoring program is on in bit, shall we partake?"

"Sounds good," Dazzle said.

We all pushed back our chairs to go to the viewing room, but Madilynne stopped us. "Now, now. No need to uproot yourselves. Observe!" she gave two sharp claps of her pink-nailed hands and an oil painting at he head of the dinning room slid upwards silently, revealing an enormous flat-screen television. "Ta-Da!"

We settled back in just as Caesar Flickerman took the screen.

…...

"Hello, good evening, and a Happy Hunger Games to you all! Now once again it is time to see just how our tributes sized up in training. After three days of careful and skillful observation by our game makers, the final scores are in! All you sponsors out there take note! Maybe you can pick a winner from the lot. Now without further ado, let us begin!

From district one. Eureka Hearthstriker. Score of nine.

Diamond Sutra. Score of nine.

From district two. Ilene Southworth. Score of six.

Trigger Suresight. Score of ten.

From district three. Persephone Redfield. Score of eight.

Fiddler Goodman. Score of six.

From district four. Gloria Tidesender. Score of four.

Sullivan Highwind. Score of five.

From district five. Roxanne Maestro. Score of nine.

Julian Zephr. Score of seven.

From district six. Meredith Wingstar. Score of five.

Kaiser Viridian. Score of six.

From district seven. Compass Rose. Score of eleven.

Juniper Fade. Score of six.

From district eight. Sunny Undershade. Score of three.

Italy Vespa. Score of five.

From district nine. Lily Amberseed. Score of six.

Rye Waverly. Score of five.

From district ten. Wynn Parish. Score of five.

Toro Hornstead. Score of ten.

From district eleven. Conifer Daily. Score of seven.

Cypress Dogwood. Score of eight.

And finally, from district twelve. Bella Fortune. Score of six.

Alexandre Deacon. Score of seven.

And there you are folks, our tributes' scoring. From casual viewers to heavy gamblers alike, I'm sure you can all find someone to put your hopes on! And do be sure to tune in tomorrow at 8:00 pm for the re-airing of the thirty-second Hunger Games, and then at 11:00 pm for this years' tribute interviews. It's sure to be an exciting night for all of us! See you there!"

*End of chapter 6*


	7. Chapter 7 The voice of Hunger pt1

Chapter 7

*The voice of Hunger*

Pt.1

A seven. That's actually a lot better than I had hoped for. At least the game makers saw something in me. Bella, and a few of my closer opponents scored lower than I did, giving me a boost of confidence. Maybe I'll manage to catch the eye of a few sponsors. But then something jumps out at me. Compass Rose and her eleven. How had she managed that? Tributes from higher districts are usually weaker than the rest, and their scores reflect it. She's obviously someone to be wary of.

I think of all this as I lay in my bed, staring at the black ceiling. Tomorrow will be the tribute interviews. When I'm presented to all of Panem one last time before the arena. With this the last thing on my mind, I manage to somehow find sleep.

"_War; terrible war…."_ I'm sitting with Madilynne Love in the viewing room, watching the treaty of treason on television. _"And so it was decreed that every year, the various districts of Panem would offer up, in tribute, one young man and woman, to fight to the death in a pageant of courage, honor, and sacrifice, until a lone victor remained…"_

"Such a lovely film, is it not?" Madilynne asked me, fluttering her neon-yellow eyelashes.

"It's very lovely," I said back.

What? Why the hell am I agreeing with her? "But it's not even half as lovely as you are."

_What the FUCK did I just say!?_

"_This is how we remember the past. This is how we safeguard our future…"_

"Alexandre…" Madilynne stares dreamily into my eyes, and I can't help myself. I lean in to kiss her….

I jumpstart awake and find with alarm that dazzle was seated on the foot of my bed. She stares at me; blinks- her eyes changing from green to brown- and says, "Do you normally recite the treaty of treason in your sleep?"

"Jesus Christ, I hope not," I said, making the sign of the cross over myself.

"At any rate, you know tonight are the tribute interviews. So we've got some work to do."

"Quite," I muttered dismally.

I hop in the shower, which Dazzle has already adjusted to a special setting, and clean up. After I'm dried off, Dazzle sits me down. "I know how you feel about capitol glamour and all," she says. "But there is one thing I want to do to you." she produces a simple pair of scissors as her eyes rake my hairline.

"Have at it," I say. My hair, which has been relatively unkempt since the reaping, now flutters to the floor at my feet as dazzle snips here and snaps there. When she's done I say "So…". Dazzle steps aside and lets me view my hair in the mirror. She must have magic fingers. My hair is now close-cropped, in perfect profile with my features. Just slightly longer in the front than the back. My jaw line seems somehow more defined; my cheekbones more prominent; all this behind a set of dark brown eyes.

"Nice," says Dazzle over my shoulder. "Now about the rest of you…"

"Forget it," I say.

Dazzle chuckles. "Okay, how about another approach?" she skips over to the walk-in closet, and at the push of a button, the doors slide open. Inside is an enormous selection of rich, delicate dress clothing. "I'll let _you_ decide your look."

Looking at the fine clothing; picturing me wearing any of it, I die a little inside. At it's core, this all still just a show. But the practical side of my brain tells me that this must be done; if I'm to attract the attention of a sponsor. I approach the closet and give Dazzle a look. "Privacy," I say. She smiles and leaves the room.

About ten minutes later. I'm dressed and having Dazzle look me over. I chose a relatively simple look. I stayed with black; with a silk dressing jacket, inlaid with gold trim; creased black pants; and a pair of black silk gloves. "_Very_ nice," she says. "But if I can make one more addition…" I shrug permission. She retreats to the closet floor and retrieves a black hat. It's simple enough; looks to fit my head closely. It had a wide brim and a white stripe that ran around it. Dazzle puts it on my head and then give it a tweak so it rests sharply angled on the right side of my head. She steps back; the biggest grin on her face. The effect is amazing. The angled brim cast a shadow over my face, hiding my eyes from foreword view entirely. To the meek observer; I'm not someone to be crossed.

"I see it now," Dazzle says. "Alexandre Deacon. The dark horse of the Hunger Games."

"Dark horse implies I'm some kind of underdog," I say.

"Well, you are," she says back. "In light of the heavier competition. Then again, everyone is." She leans back against the dresser. "I guess now we have to work on your behavior, etiquette; how you'll present yourself to the crowd." I push up the brim of my hat to give her a questioning look. "I know your escort should be doing this since you don't have a mentor, but since she's a lady, I doubt she can teach you much about being a gentleman."

"And you're more qualified because…?"

"I have four older brothers; I know how guys work." Dazzle starts to pace back and forth now. "But you're not really a gentleman, are you?" Dazzle seems to grow more excited as she speaks. "So far you're the biggest rebel the Hunger Games have ever seen. At the reaping, you defied mandate by refusing to shake your opponent's hand; you dared to show your true, un-altered face to the capitol at the tribute parade. Now we have a chance to put the icing on the cake. If you can come across with that same self-believing defiance, you're sure to get some second looks."

I like this angle, my smile shows it. Then Dazzle shows me how I'm to conduct myself. She teaches me how to walk. I hook the thumb of my left hand in my left pocket, just grasp the brim of my hat with my right thumb and index finger, and take slow, confident strides. Dazzle shrieks with delight at it's effect. She tells me how to sit. I'm to cross my legs and angle my head downward, so the brim of my hat hides my eyes. I'm to remain just like this during the other interviews. Not showing even the slightest interest in what the other tributes are saying. My unshakable cool will surely attract more attention than a gaudy plea for sponsorship.

She stands me up and looks me in the eye. "You got this," she says. And she kisses me on the cheek.

…...

**A/N- The rest of the chapter will be dedicated to each of the tribute interviews in their entirety. It may get a little lengthy, so bear with me. I'm not sure how this will go over, so please excuse any repetitiveness. I at least want to give all the tributes a face, a drive, and most importantly, a personality. So settle in, and get ready to meet the tributes.**

**- B.D. Skunkworks**

…...

I stood in line with the rest of the twenty-four tributes. We were in order from district one to twelve; me bringing up the rear. Meeting Bella this time around was like meeting a whole different person. She looked like a striking midnight queen. Her black velvet gown flowed around her like a dark mist; her gorgeous black hair was ornately woven with satin ribbons; her eyelashes elongated and luxurious. She was beautiful. "You look good, Alexandre," were her first words to me.

"Thanks," was all I said.

There was no time for further discussion as the anthem of Panem had started playing around us. And in single file unison, we moved out onto the stage. The roar of the crowd was immense. The city circle was absolutely packed. Those who couldn't get seats crowded the isles and ally ways, all clambering to get a glimpse at us. The night sky was black above us, but the artificial lights lit the place up like day time. When the final swells of the anthem died away, we all took our seats. I immediately adopted the cross-legged pose Dazzle instructed and rested my chin on my hand, in a state of somewhat attentive boredom.

And then from back stage, the man of the hour appears. He bounces onto the podium and strikes a deep bow for the audience, who have reached new heights of frenzy. I know this man; everyone does. The immortal host of the interviews. The one and only, Caesar Flickerman. The voice of Hunger.

His color for this year is violent neon- yellow. He's damn near impossible to look at directly, like staring into the sun. He speaks into the microphone, "Welcome, citizens of the capitol. And a happy Hunger Games. Tonight, as you know, is when we take the time to all get a little closer to our dear tributes. The dreams, hopes, and aspirations of twenty-four competetors to be laid out right here, right now!" The crowd responds with a roar. "So without further ado, let's start the show!"

The crowd goes quiet with anticipation. "And first up, from district one, please welcome, Eureka Hearthstriker!" Eureka Hearthstriker walks down the isle with a confident stride, no doubt taught by her stylist. Medium height with a short bob of fire-red hair. Her dress follows suit; brilliant crimson that seems to radiate heat. She joins Caesar at the podium and shakes his hand. "So, Eureka, how are you finding your stay at the capitol thus far?"

"It's been such a wonderful experience, and a great honor," she says back.

"Look at you, all decked out in red. What inspired this look?"

"My burning desire to win!" Shouts Eureka. This gets a roar from the crowd. "Don't get too close, Caesar, you might get burned!"

Caesar takes a dramatic step backwards which gets a laugh from the audience. "And how is it you plan to win, Eureka? What's your strategy?"

"I've got it all, Caesar; the strength; the speed." she gives her head a provocative toss. "And the look." The men in the audience hoot their approval.

"Indeed you do!" says Caesar. "And thank you, district one Eureka Hearthstriker!" she's applauded back to her seat. "And now welcome her district counterpart, Diamond Sutra!"

A lanky brown-haired boy leaps up and jogs the length of the isle. He seems to have a real upbeat energy about him, as the smile never leaves his face. His tuxedo is snow-white and completely covered in the gemstones of his namesake. He shines brilliantly. He doesn't even wait for Caesar's first question. "Hey Caesar, so great to be here!" he shouts.

"My, we've got a lively one here, eh folks!" A roar of consent from the crowd.

"You bet!" says Diamond. "I'm rarin' to go! Let's start the games right now!" The crowd feeds off his energy.

"So, Diamond, what do you think gives you an edge over the competition? Aside from the obvious." he says this jokingly to the crowd, obviously alluding to Diamond's abundance of energy.

"It's all about the attitude, Caesar. And my attitude? I can't lose!"

"Now that's the spirit! Indomitable force of will!" cries Caesar. "Thank you for your time, Diamond Sutra, ladies and gentlemen!" he jogs back to his seat. "Moving on to district two. Give a round of applause for Ilene Southworth!" Ilene struts to the podium in superb confidence. She's a little taller than I am, the heels she's wearing probably help. Her grey eyes peek mischievously through her smooth black hair. "Welcome, Ilene, welcome. Tell me, what was your first impression upon arriving here?"

"My first impression?" Ilene says in a husky voice. "That is one _helluva_ suit!"

"Why thank you!" Caesar says. "I've got my own stylists too, you know?" he says with a wink. The crowd laughs. "Now, Ilene, I hate to bring up a slightly sore point. But your training score; slightly below what would be expected from your district. Care to shed some light on that?" "I was hiding my abilities," Ilene says simply. "If I showed what I could really do, the other tributes would die of fright!"

"Oh is that so?" Caesar says. "Well I for one am certainly dying to see what you can really do."

"Don't worry, the best is yet to come," was Ilene's confident response.

"Sounds good to me! Ilene Southworth, of district two!" Ilene takes her seat. "And now, ladies and gentlemen, here is Trigger Suresight!"

Trigger Suresight. He's as impressive as his training score of ten. He's a solid six feet tall with long limbs. He wears a long black trench coat over a deep plum tuxedo. His blue eyes are intelligent and calculating. As Caesar asks him how he's finding the capitol so far, his reply is, "Come now, such trivial questions, Caesar." The audience is in an awed hush at the smooth confidence of his voice. "I'll get strait to the point," he continues. "The Games are a show of skill, no one here possess as much skill as I do. I plan on being in that victor's throne, no matter what." Trigger has completely taken over this interview. "And before you ask me how I plan to do this, I'll tell you. There is _nothing_ I can't do. Thank you for your time."

Trigger walks back to his seat just as Caesar snaps out of his stupefied gaze. "Uh…Trigger Suresight, district two!" The crowd explodes to life. I'm sure he just won every sponsor in the house.

"Wow. He was good," Bella whispers to me.

I shake my head as Caser moves on. "And now, here's district three's Persephone Redfield!" A short black-haired girl walks up to the podium. Though she's not too tall, she's to be taken seriously because of her solid training score, and there just seems to be some kind of strength she secrets under that benign, dreamy face of hers.

"Welcome, Persephone. How's everything been for you thus far?"

"Fantastic, thank you." her reply was short, but not necessarily rehearsed.

"Ooh, I've got this feeling about you," Caesar says. "You seem to be someone to keep an eye on, no?"

"You and everyone else," Persephone says.

The audience chuckles in appreciation. "So, a solid eight for you in training. Care to offer us some insight?"

"I do. But it's impossible." There was something in Persephone's short, concise answers that definitely hinted of a hidden inner strength.

"Oh, so focused this one is. Persephone Redfield, everybody!" There's a roar of applause as she takes her seat. "And now here is Fiddler Goodman!"

Fiddler didn't really make an impression on me during training, nor does he now. His stylists made him up handsome enough, his sleek blonde hair swept over his head, revealing his hazel eyes. He's clearly nervous as he steps up to the podium. "Good evening, Caesar," he said shakily.

"And good evening to you, Fiddler. How's the capitol been for you so far?"

"It's a lot bigger than it is on television," Fiddler chuckles.

The audience joins him. "So, any particular aim for you in this years Games?"

"Besides surviving?" another laugh from the crowd. "I'm gonna do my best, just like I promised my sister."

An 'Awww' drifts from audience. "And that you will. Fiddler Goodman of district three!"

He's applauded back to his seat. "And now please welcome, district four's Gloria Tidesender!" A roll of polite applause follows her name. Gloria was a tiny twelve-year-old with curly brown hair and sea-green eyes. Her costume is patterned like gold fish scales and her skirt ripples out in the shape of a mermaid's tail. In a word; she's cute. Caesar squats down to look Gloria in the face, as she's so small. "My, my that is quite the adorable dress, isn't it folks?" The crowd gives enthusiastic hoots and applause.

Cleary given confidence by this, Gloria squeaks, "Thank you so much, I worked so hard on it."

Caesar's eyebrows go up. "_You _designed your own costume?" he says, impressed.

"Yes!" says Gloria. "I designed it while I was at home. I wore it to my big brother's wedding, and maybe I thought the capitol would like it too!"

Adoring coos go up from the audience. "Well I think you most certainly made an impression here, didn't she now?" The crowd reacts supportively. "Gloria Tidesender, district four!" she takes her seat. She really charmed the crowd with her cuteness. But sadly, cute does not win these Games. "And now, Sullivan Highwind!" Sullivan is about my height. He has fair blonde-white hair and jet-black eyes. He stands strait and proud, and I wonder if this posture is natural. Someone with such a weak training score can't really be that confident. "Welcome, Sullivan, welcome," Caesar says.

"Thank you, Caesar," Sullivan says back. "I'm grateful for this opportunity, and I plan to make the most of it."

"And just what is the plan, Sullivan?"

"I'm gonna be smart. I'm the best survivor here; I can live off the sea or the land." Caesar nods his head at the audience in approval. "And when I see my chance, I'm defiantly gonna take it."

"I love the confidence!" Caesar shouts. "But given the unpredictable nature of the Games, just how do you plan on cashing in these opportunities?"

"I can pick up on things," Sullivan says. "Years on the ocean and in the woods have taught me see things others can't."

"I like it! And we'll see just what you do at the start of the Games. Sullivan Highwind, folks!" A great round of applause as Sullivan returns to his seat. "And now welcome district five, Roxanne Maestro!"

Roxanne is the same age as me. Her jet black hair hangs in fancy bobbing curls from her head, and her eyes are a light brown. When she reaches the podium, she gives the crowd an extravagant curtsey before giving Caesar the same gesture. "Good evening!" she chirps.

"My, what a respectful young lady, don't you think?" he asks the crowd. They respond favorably. "And look at that dress," Caesar continues. "Could you…?" he makes a circular motion with his finger. Roxanne obliges and twirls in a circle, her deep purple gown flaring out, giving you the impression that she could fly away at any moment. She definitely seems to be playing on her good looks. "Wonderful, wonderful!" Caesar cries. "And now on a serious note; that score of nine; the highest in district five's history. How did you manage that?"

"Oh, I'm more than just a pretty face," Roxanne says mischievously. "I've _definitely_ got the skills to go with it. I'd say I'm the total package."

"With a score like that, I've no doubt. Thank you, Roxanne Maestro!" A huge roar of appreciation from the audience; she's defiantly a favorite. "And now, here's Julian Zephr!" Julian rises from his seat. Something about the way he conducts himself; the set of his shoulders; his sharp attentive eyes; and seeming tautness of his legs. He screams athleticism. "Julian, so good to see you!"

"Thank you, Caesar" he says back. Even his voice seems fit and healthy.

"I must say; another solid score coming out of district five. How did that come to be?"

"How about I show you instead?" Julian asks with a smile.

"Well, go right on ahead," says Caesar.

Julian leaves the podium and jogs to the end of the stage. He takes a breath of preparation, and then gives himself a running start. And then he launches himself end over end in a series of perfect back flips down the length of the stage. The audience is going absolutely mad. He lands neatly on his feet just in front of me. I remain just as Dazzle instructed and don't even give him a glance. Julian rejoins Caesar who is laughing delightedly. "Now THAT was amazing!" the crowd roars agreement. "Julian Zephr!" the applause is immense.

It's about this time when I notice the audience members directly in front of me pointing and whispering; "There, him. That boy on the end."

"What, district twelve?"

"How could he ignore that?"

"What's with him?"

"Could he be that bored?"

It's working. My impartial posture is attracting attention, just as Dazzle said it would. "And now representing district six, Meredith Wingstar!" And down the isle she comes. Her gown reflects her name perfectly. It's deep black and patterned with hundreds of little glowing stars. And set on her shoulders is a pair of white feathery wings. "Good evening, Meredith. You look quite splendid!"

"My stylist thought so too," she says back. A chuckle from the audience.

"So tell me, what will be your approach to the Games this year?"

"Firstly, my score belies my abilities, I'll say that now," Meredith says this right to the audience. "I don't expect anything less than at least reaching the top four."

"The top four?" Caesar says with inflection. "A lofty goal indeed. We'll see how you get on at the start of the Games. Thank you, Meredith Wingstar!" she gets a good send off to her seat. "Now welcome, Kaiser Viridian!" I remember him, if only for his lack of presence. He took no part whatsoever in training, and yet still managed to score a six. I kept my ears open for this interview. "So, Kaiser, how has your time been spent in the capitol so far?"

"Well, I've been looking through the windows a lot; there's a lot to see." Kaiser spoke with a sort of methodical honesty; he seemed to chose his words carefully.

"Is that what you spent your training time doing?"

"No, I was watching the other tributes training."

"And what were your impressions?"

"They're nothing special."

And 'oooh' went up from the crowd. "Undaunted! I love it! Kaiser Viridian folks" Kaiser took his seat to great applause. "And moving right along to district seven, Here's Compass Rose!" An explosion of applause greeted her name. Compass's lean frame was encased in a long gown of forest-green silk. Her blond hair was woven with white flower petals; all enhancing the shine of her green eyes. "Compass, Compass," Caesar said. "I'm sure everyone here certainly remembers you from the reaping, am I wrong folks?"

They respond emphatically. "And they're right to," Compass says cockily. " I'm in this to win this. I'd love to see someone try and stop me!" The crowd hoots with delight.

"Compass. Your score of eleven; the highest in this year's pool. Do you think that's an edge, or a liability?"

"Both," Compass says firmly. "The game makers saw what I could do, and I'm sure all of them," she nods her head in our; her opponents direction, "Have a bull's eye on me. So, come and get me!"

The crowd gasps. A tribute directly challenging her opposition; a first in Games history. "Oh, save some for the arena!" Caesar says jokingly. "Thank you, Compass Rose! We'll certainly be keeping an eye on you!" She takes her seat amongst a roar of applause. "Now please welcome, Juniper Fade!" Juniper struts up the isle and joins Caesar. His black tuxedo shines like satin, really bringing out his wide, dark eyes. "Juniper. How are finding everything so far?"

Juniper lets a low whistle, "In terms of competition, it's gonna be a tough one." he says this with a light-hearted series of nods and the audience chuckles.

"So, how do think you measure up to your competitors?"

"Well, I'm taller than him; taller than her; _she's_ got me by a few inches…" The crowd laughs hysterically as Juniper points out a few of us and gives his height comparisons.

Caesar himself is holding a stitch in his side as he asks, "How do you think your opponents will respond to your sense of humor in the arena?"

"If I can't kill 'em with a sword, I'll try and make 'em laugh themselves to death," was Juniper's response. Caesar could barely contain himself as he said, "Juniper Fade, district seven!" The crowd applauds him back to his seat. "So how bout it, folks. Having a good time?" Caesar asks the audience. They show their approval with monstrous applause. "I think that's a yes," he says with a laugh. "Alright! Let's keep things moving! Time for our next tribute!"

*End of chapter 7 pt.1*

-**A/N**

**Okay, snap decision. I decided to split this chapter into two parts; it was getting a little long there. Rest assured part two is coming soon, REAL soon. I'm literally typing it **_**as you read this**_**. So hang tight!**

**-B.D. Skunkworks**


	8. Chapter 8 The voice of Hunger pt2

Chapter 8

*The voice of Hunger*

Pt.2

"Ladies and gents, please welcome district eights', Sunny Undershade!"

Sunny is a thirteen-year-old with long red hair and blue eyes. Her gown reflects her name well, as it's an intense, sun-colored silk. She joins Caesar on the podium and gives an emphatic "Hi everybody!" to the audience, waving with both yellow-gloved hands.

"And hello to you too, Sunny," Caesar says. "Well, look at your dress. I'd say we're a perfect match, no?" Caesar and Sunny strike a few poses together as the crowd eats it all up. "Marvelous!" Caesar says. "So is this your strategy for the arena, to blind everyone with your sunny personality?"

"Oh, no," Sunny says. "I've got something special planned for the arena. It's definitely going to be a first in Hunger Games history!"

"I can hardly wait! Sunny Undershade, folks!" Sunny takes her seat. "And now, here's Italy Vespa!" Italy walks to the podium and gives Caesar's hand a shake. "Welcome, Italy. How's your capitol experience so far?"

"So far, it's been everything I expected," Italy says back, tossing his long brown hair. I hear several female audience members shriek with delight.

"Your training score, Italy. To be expected from your district, or are you maybe hiding something from us?"

"I've _nothing_ to hide," he says with confidence. He flashes a winning smile at the crowd, and I'm pretty sure a few women faint. Ugh…pretty boys.

"Well, Italy, if they gave points for looks, I'm sure you've would've gotten a twelve!"

"Or higher," Italy adds wisely.

Caesar gives a great laugh, "No doubt you would! Italy Vespa!" The crowd applauds him to his seat, as women start throwing flowers onto the stage. "And now, from district nine, Lily Amberseed!" Lily approaches the podium with a long-legged stride. Her long blonde hair is tied back in an elegant braid and secured with a golden bow. She smiles shyly as she joins Caesar. "Good evening, Lily," Caesar says.

"And a good evening to you," she says back.

"I almost hate to say it, but that was _some_ reaction you had at the reaping, no?"

I remember. At the district nine reaping when her name was called, Lily had initially tried to flee. She made it to the gates before being accosted by peacekeepers. "That was then, Caesar. And this is now. The only place I'm running is strait to the cornucopia!"

Enthusiastic applause from the crowd. "And where did this sudden confidence come from?"

"From my time spent in training. I'm sure now that I can keep myself alive long enough to make an impression on the sponsors," Lily responded.

"And I sincerely hope you do. Thank you, Lily Amberseed!" Applause follows her to her seat. "And now, give a round of applause for Rye Waverly!"

Rye hops up to the podium, apparently in good spirits. "How's it going, Caesar?" he says brightly.

"Just fine, and thank you, Rye," Caesar responds. "So, out-scored by your district partner; does this give you any particular concerns heading into the arena?"

"Yeah," says Rye. "What's everyone back home going to think when I kill her?" A rumble of laughter from the audience.

Caesar himself chuckles as he asks, "And have you any other impressions of your competition?"

"Nothing I can say out loud," Rye responds.

"Ha ha! Thank you so much, Rye Waverly!" The crowd applauds as Rye retakes his seat. "And now for district ten, here's Wynn Parish!" Wynn walks from her seat and shakes hands with Caesar. "So, Wynn. What is your strategy to _Wynn_ this year's games?"

The crowd laughs at Caesar's play on Wynn's name. "To play it smart," Wynn replies in her small fourteen-year-old voice. "Food, for me, won't be a problem. I can easily live off the land."

"And what of your competitors? What kind of threat do you see them as?"

"Well, if I can avoid them, they won't be much of a threat, will they?"

The audience laughs as Caesar asks, "How confident are you that you can do such a thing?"

"The arena's a big place; they'll be plenty of places to hide," Wynn says.

"Quite so," Caesar says. "Wynn Parish, district ten!" Wynn returns to her seat. "And now for her district partner, Toro Hornstead!" Toro Hornstead was built like a rock; broad powerful shoulders, a sturdy chest, and a thick, muscular neck. He barely seemed to fit in his interview costume; a simple black tuxedo. "Welcome, Toro. The first thing I must ask about is that training score. Scoring your district's namesake, how did you manage that?"

"They know it's survival of the fittest. I'm the fittest. That's how." Even Toro's voice seemed to hold physical power.

"So, would you say that strength is your greatest asset?"

"Among other things," was Toro's reply.

"And what would those other things be?"

"A brain," Toro said simply.

"Brains _and_ brawn, wonderful! Thank you for your time, Toro Hornstead!" He retakes his seat to great applause. "Moving to district eleven. Here is Conifer Daily!" Conifer takes her position next to Caesar. Her golden gown shines brightly under the lights, bringing a nice touch to her brown hair and eyes. "So, Conifer, what has been your favorite thing in the capitol so far?"

"Oh my, the food is excellent!" Conifer says.

The crowd gives a laugh. "Try not to overdo it! You won't be in shape for the Games!" Caesar says.

"I worked it off during training."

"And it shows. A solid score for you and your district. Anything in particular you showed the game makers?"

"Classified information!" sings Conifer. "That it is," Caesar says. "Conifer Daily, ladies and gentlemen!" she takes her seat as Caesar says, "Now please welcome Cypress Dogwood!"

Cypress is barely shorter than I am, and a year younger. His stark white hair is quite striking and against his black eyes. "How's everything, Caesar?" he says.

"Splendid, thank you," Caesar says back. "I must say; love that name. Two kinds of trees. Tell me, Cypress, are you a good climber?"

"Terrible, actually," Cypress says. "But I worked on it in training."

"Is that how you managed that score?"

"Yes," says Cypress. "But I've other strong points as well."

"Care to share?" asks Caesar.

"I would…but I've been given explicit instructions not to," Cypress says somewhat sadly.

"Guess we'll just have to wait and see! Cypress Dogwood, district eleven!" he retakes his seat. I can feel Bella stiffen up next to. She's next. I want to reach out and give her a calming pat, but that would break character, so I simply remain still. "And now the last, but certainly not least district; here is district twelve's Bella Fortune!" Bella rises to great applause from the crowd. They certainly remember her from the reaping. Bella walks, or rather glides to the podium. The crowd 'ooohs' at her easy gait. Under the spotlight, Bella looks extraordinary. Whereas the other tributes seemed to reflect the lights, Bella seemed to absorb them. Her dress shone softly with a sort of lack of radiance, creating her own undeniable black light. Caesar himself seemed stunned at the effect as he says "Amazing! What a great job by the district twelve stylists!" the crowd roars support. "Now, Bella. That was quite an emotional reaping for you, wasn't it?"

"It was, yes," Bella says quietly.

"Could you offer us some insight as to your young lover who so badly wanted to take your place?"

I could see Bella fighting down her emotions; trying to keep her voice clear for her response. "His name is Rorick," she began. "I met him when I was ten years old, and he was eleven. I don't think we were old enough then to actually be in love, but I could still feel _something_ between us."

The audience give an empathizing 'Awww' and even Caesar's expression is humbled as he asks, "What were your thoughts as he ran up to the stage at the reaping?"

"I kept thinking that, there was no way I could let him go through with it. If I watched him die in the Games, I knew I would die along with him."

Several of the audience members were visibly moved to tears. "I have one more question," Caesar says. "Knowing that Rorick is waiting for you at home, how will this affect your approach to the Games?"

Bella takes a breath before answering. "My every action will be taken with him in mind. If I keep believing I'll see him again, then I know I can make it through this."

"I sincerely hope you do," Caesar says. He kisses Bella on the cheek. "Bella Fortune of district twelve!" The applause is immense and goes on long after Bella is seated.

I turn my head just slightly and whisper to her, "Good job."

She smiles in return and says "Break a leg out there."

"And now for our last tribute of the night," Caesar announces. "Please welcome district twelve's Alexander Deacon!" _he got my name wrong_, was my first thought. My second was just how loud the applause seemed to be for me. I rose from my seat and walked my way to the podium just as Dazzle had taught me. There were shrieks from the crowd, no doubt in admiration my of confident strut. I joined Caesar as he shook my hand. "Welcome, Alexander. I-"

"Firstly," I said, holding up a finger to cut him off. "It's Alexan_dre_. You're the only person to pronounce it wrong thus far." The crowd gasps at my daringness.

"Oh, please excuse me, Alexandre. So do you think-"

"Hold on. I wanna make sure my hat's strait." The crowd goes crazy with delight as I give my hat a few adjustments. Satisfied, I say to Caesar, "Continue."

Caesar is in a state of disbelief. He seems to have trouble approaching his next question. I stand in total commanding confidence, with the brim of my hat hiding my eyes, and my hands shoved in my pockets. Caesar clears his throat as he says, "Well. That was _some_ statement you made at the tribute parade. What inspired that costume, or should I say, lack thereof?"

"Mostly my desire to remain as myself through it all," I said. "And to make an impression as something else."

"Something else like what?" Caesar asks.

I look to Dazzle. Seated in the second row. She gives me a nod. "As a dark horse."

The crowd 'ooohs' "That's quite the declaration!" Caesar says. "And what exactly makes you the dark horse this year?"

"Picture it, Caesar," I said. "That boy from district twelve who refused the mandatory handshake at the reaping; who wore no costume at the parade. Those are the things that get people to notice you." I hold my arms out to the audience and say, "Am I wrong?"

They explode with delight. "Well, I wonder what the other tributes think of all this talking yourself up?" Caesar says.

Right here is when I decide to put the icing on the cake. "Fuck the other tributes."

As was as if I set off an explosion. The crowd roared with absolute raucous madness. They pumped their fists in the air and shouted my name, "Alexandre! Alexandre!"

"My, my, my!" Caesar said. "Now _that_, ladies and gentlemen, is an attitude that won't take no for an answer. Alexandre Deacon, the dark horse of the Hunger Games!" I retake my seat as the audience goes on and on. Caesar actually has a hard time settling them down. "My goodness. What an exciting evening we've had here tonight folks!" They shout their approval. "And as we all know, tomorrow is the big day! So let's give our twenty-four tributes a huge thank you for being here tonight!" They rise to their feet and hit us with a wave of applause and shouting. "Thank you ladies and gentlemen, and thank you tributes. And have a happy Hunger Games!"

We're played off the stage by the anthem of Panem and meet our support crews backstage. Dazzle sweeps me into her arms as she gushes, "God, Alexandre, that was AMAZING!"

"You think?" I said back.

"You're gonna have sponsors around the block! I just know it!" I catch Bella's eye as she give me a small smile. "C'mon, let's get back to the sweet, we have GOT to see that replay!" So we crowd onto the elevator and hurry back to our suite, there to witness my triumph in the interviews.

*End of chapter 8*

**A/N- So there you have it, the tribute interviews. I hope it went over okay and everybody didn't get bored or anything. I thank anyone who at last gave my story a look, and a bigger thanks to favorites and follower so far. I'll be sure to try and keep things moving as I balance this out with my other fic, **_**The Angel and the Saint**_**. So until then, thanks again and see you soon.**

**-B.D. Skunkworks**


	9. Chapter 9 Paradiso

Chapter 9

*Paradiso*

"_Hold on. I wanna make sure my hat's strait."_

Me and Dazzle were in the sitting room, watching the re-airing of the tribute interviews. Now, as an outside observer, I am truly stunned and impressed at how I came off. If I were a sponsor, I'd bet on me. "Oh my god, here it comes!" Dazzle's favorite part was up next.

"_Well, I wonder what the other tributes think of all this talking yourself up?"_

"_Fuck the other tributes."_

Dazzle squeals with delight. "Amazing!" Even I can't suppress a smile. I blew everyone else out of the water with that simple sentence alone.

The program ends and the television shuts itself off. Me and Dazzle sit in silence for a moment. A silence of small triumph, permeated with that of the obvious dread.

The Games begin tomorrow.

"I think you really have a chance, Alexandre," Dazzle said. "If the sponsors are kind to you, you'll get weapons, food, all the like."

"And if they're not?"

"They will be. I'm sure of it."

I nod my head a few times as I rise from the couch. "Guess I better go try for some sleep," I said. As if _that_ will happen.

"Alexandre…" I turn from the doorway. "Do you want…company?" I stared at her. Either she needed to rephrase the question, or I was getting the wrong idea. "Don't look at me like that, you're getting the wrong idea," she said. "It's just that…maybe…given your…situation…."

"Way to skirt around saying, 'Because this could be your last night alive…' " I said.

Dazzle smiled. For some reason, it just now occurred to me how beautiful of a thing it was when she did that. "Okay, maybe it's a little of that. I just thought, maybe-"

"Whatever," I said turning through the door. "C'mon".

She followed me down the hall to my room. Neither if us bothered to get undressed or anything, which I'm grateful for, and maybe, should I say…a little disappointed? I crawled into the bed and Dazzle carefully climbed in next to me. She was careful to keep just a small space between us as we lay on our backs and stared up at the ceiling. A silence followed. Not necessarily awkward, but just slightly weird. And despite everything I've been fighting against since I was twelve years old; having some kind of emotional, no matter how small or brief, connection with another human being, the words escape my mouth, "I like you, Dazzle."

She rolled her head sideways to look at me. "Oh my, Alexandre, this is so sudden!" she mocked.

"Don't look at me like that, you're getting the wrong idea," I said. "It's just that, I finally know now that every girl from district one isn't a total bitch."

Dazzle laughed. "Thanks," she said. "I know you mean that as a compliment, even if you are an asshole about it."

We both laughed, and the silence resumed. I was thinking ahead to the arena. Just what was in store? What would the terrain be like? The climate? Not that it mattered, the game makers could change that at the flick of switch. Before I could voice any of this to Dazzle, she made a sudden move. She rolled herself over and mounted herself right on top of my pelvis. It was as if fire had suddenly conducted through my lungs. My breathing tripled as my chest heaved in and out, moving Dazzle's slight frame up and down along with it. She leaned into me and framed my face with her hands, staring me in the eye with spontaneous, lustful intent. "I thought I was getting the wrong idea?" I whispered.

"You were," whispered back. "Besides, I don't see you stopping me." she breathed the words into my mouth.

She's right. I wasn't.

She kissed me and her lips tasted like electricity. I shivered as indulgent heat ran through my body. I stripped her shirt off as though the touch of her bare skin was the last realism in some kind of dying reality. Her skirt and panties were off even faster. My clothes were discarded and I finally took control and rolled Dazzle underneath me. "Fuck me like I know you want me," she purred.

She didn't have to ask twice.

…...

****The following program is for the capitol audience's eyes and ears only. No tribute, nor any member or party of their ensemble has access, or knowledge, of any of the following information correlating to this broadcast. The proceeding programs airs now, at capitol local time 9:00 am.****

…...

"Hello and good morning citizens of the capitol! Odysseys Reedman here; and we are just a mere _three hours_ from the start of the thirty-third annual Hunger Games! If you were half as excited as I am, you'd have died of a heart attack by now! Now, allow me present our special guests to you today. Here we have none other than this year's lead arena designer, Lucca Valero!"

The camera pans to include a just barely middle-aged woman in the shot. Her faded red hair is tied back in a tight bun, and her glasses magnify her sharp blue eyes. "Thank you, Odysseys, it is an honor to be here," she said professionally.

Odysseys continues. "And here with me also this morning, are our trio of most recent victors. From district one, victor of the thirtieth Hunger Games, is Lotus Evora!" The camera pans to a shot of a twenty-year-old woman. Her black hair and eyes are made up heavily. She blows a kiss to the viewers. "Also from district one, the victor of the thirty-first Hunger Games, Riches Galore!" A shot of an eighteen-year-old girl. She waves to the camera as she pushes back her wavy blonde hair. "And rounding out the trio, from district six, the victor of just last year's thirty-second annual Hunger Games, we have Malachi Alex-Black!" A shot of a seventeen-year-old boy. He inclines his brown-haired head graciously to the viewers.

"Welcome everyone, welcome!" Odysseys says. "So, Lucca. This is your first year in your new position of head arena designer. What is it that you're giving us that distinguishes you clearly for this position?"

Lucca shifts slightly in her seat before she begins. "What I'm offering this year, I do certainly believe is not only a first in the Game's history, but something I'm sure we will be able to expand upon for future Games to come."

Odysseys nods his head. "Give us some insight. What makes _your_ particular design so special?"

Lucca leans forward and taps a few keys on the holographic projector before her. Up springs a full-color scale representation of her designed arena. "Arenas up to this point in history, have been fairly strait forward. As mine is as well, in a certain sense. I looked to take what's been done well in the past, and give it a more variable type structure."

"And just how did you achieve this, Lucca?"

"By combining naturally occurring geological structures and phenomena, with that of a man-made accord. And the result was this." The holographic model zoomed in, enlarging the image. It showed an overhead bird's eye view of what looked like a deserted island in the middle of a blue ocean. "From on high this artifice seems to be an island paradise, but under close scrutiny, it's true purpose is revealed. This, ladies and gentlemen, is Paradiso."

Malachi leans forward with apparent interest. "Love the name," he says, his chained ear rings swinging slightly as he spoke. "So beautifully deceptive."

Odysseys points carefully to a few places on the hologram. "I'm beginning to see what you mean here, Lucca. Man and nature coming together in this work. One can clearly see the artificial touches to the indigenous landscape."

"Which was the exact goal," Lucca says with a measure of pride. "To separate the natural from the artificial will be the first test the tributes face."

"Splendid!" Odysseys says. He turns to the victors. "And as we all know, it's not the arena that makes the game, but the players. What were your initial impressions of this year's tributes, and what are your thoughts now?"

"Well I for one," begins Lotus. "Will be pulling for my fellow district tributes, but I've definitely got my eye on that district seven girl."

"Oho, I know just what you mean, Lotus! What a little fire brand she's turning out to be!" Odysseys says.

"And she's pretty cute too," says Malachi. "But really, I think it will go to either one or two this year; the divide between the high and low districts is bigger than it ever was."

"I disagree," says Riches. "The outer districts actually have a few strong competitors this year. And that district twelve boy, Alexandre; there just seems to be something about him…"

"My goodness what an interview he had!" Odysseys exclaims. I've personally got half a mind to put in a small stake on him." Odysseys shifts in his seat as he points to Lotus. "So, Lotus, let's go back to your Games and see if we can apply your strategy from that arena to this one. Your's was the ruined metropolis, correct?"

"Yes it was," Lotus says. The image of Paradiso is replaced by scenes from Lotus's Hunger Games. "Ah, yes, here's the bloodbath." The cornucopia stands in the center of an enormous pock-marked parking lot. The setting is completely urban, although shelled-out and thoroughly dilapidated. The twenty-four tributes size up the situation.

"Now I remember this year was the only year where food and water was actually hidden in the arena. Inside the various crumbling buildings and whatnot, correct?"

"Yes," Lotus says. The gong sounds and the tributes race to the cornucopia. "I had a close one here," she says. She was nearly impaled on a spear thrown by a district two male. She barely had time to duck, grab a pack and run off across the cratered tarmac into the ruined city.

"I loved the flavor of these Games; the crumbling buildings; the abandoned cars; downed street lights. What a touch." Odysseys says. "How do you think this translates to what our tributes will face just a little while from now?"

"I think those from one and two, a more urban setting, will adapt to the artificial half of the arena. And those more in tune with nature can be at greater ease with the natural side," Lotus says.

"Very well a possibility," Odysseys says. "Ah, the final moments." Lotus's final opponent, the district five female- severely weakened from thirst and exposure- was an easy target for her laser-guided knife throwing. One in her leg; one in her abdomen; and a final one in her throat. "Masterful performance, Lotus" Odysseys says. He turns to Riches. "So your particular year was the dessert." he says.

"Probably the worst arena ever," Riches says back.

The screen shows the tributes rising into the arena. They are immediately blinded by an intense white-hot sun. All around them are stretches of burning sand, scruffy bushes, and rock formations. "Now this, _this_ was a challenging year," Odysseys says, wagging a finger. The tributes race for the sun baked cornucopia. The prizes inside consist mostly of water. Precious, precious water. "A large part of the contingent died from dehydration; thirteen of them in fact."

"My generous sponsors definitely got me through this," Riches said.

"Can that be applied to this year's games?"

"People definitely tend to underestimate the merits of good sponsorship," Riches says. "I think the lower districts will be in trouble, as they will expect to have sponsors right from the get go. And if the sponsors decide to turn their attention elsewhere, it's unlikely they'll be able support themselves in the arena."

"As has been the case with some of the lower district tributes; that arrogance can be costly." Odysseys says. "Now, Malachi, your year was the swamp, no?"

"It was hot. It was humid. It was wet. And it sucked," he confirmed.

"Too right," Odysseys said. The tributes on screen were now sloshing their way to the cornucopia among ankle-deep root water. Malachi was accosted by the district nine male. He easily sent a sword through his chest and sloshed off into the mire. "Now, Malachi, what is it you took from this year that can be applied to now?"

"The variability of the arenas, and the individual tribute's adaptation abilities," was his response. "Being able to quickly familiarize yourself with the unknown is absolutely key."

"Well said," Odysseys nodded. "And here's your victory moment." Malachi and his final opponent, the district one female, were engaged in a savage knife fight. Malachi had taken a severe slash over his eye and was losing blood alarmingly fast. His opponent lunged in, but her boot caught on a hidden root in the dark water and lost her footing. Malachi immediately pounced on her and knocked her down. He pinned his knees on her chest, holding her head under the water. She kicked thrashed and clawed, then she finally went rigid. Malachi was crowned victor.

"And now," Odysseys said in closing to the victors. "Less than an hour until launch. Final thoughts?"

"I believe it could go to anyone," Lotus said. "The arena has a lot of variables this year, those who capitalize will have the best chance."

"Yes," Malachi agreed. "We just may have a outer district winner this time around."

"Either way, it's sure to be a fantastic Hunger Games!" Riches said.

"Indeed!" Odysseys said. "And thank you for your time everyone. Our arena designer, Lucca. And our guest victors; Lotus, Riches, and Malachi. And to you, viewers, for being up so early with us on this exciting day of days! Taking over for us now is the dynamic duo of Claudius Templesmith and Caesar Flickerman; offering you live commentary over the course of the Games. Thank you all again! And as always, have a happy Hunger Games! We'll see you in the arena!"

*End of chapter nine*


	10. Chapter 10- Butterflies and Hurricanes

Chapter 10

*Butterflies and Hurricanes*

The cornucopia blazed in the sunlight, temporarily blinding us all. We had entered the arena through a grass-tangled expanse of plains, the cornucopia was about fifty yards from us. As though compelled, all of us tributes couldn't help but to take quick snapping turns of our heads, as to gauge our whereabouts. I was just about near the center of the arc that us twenty-four tributes Formed. On my right I recognized Trigger Suresight, on my left, was Bella. Her midnight hair was blown just slightly askew by the teasing breeze that had begun to blow over the plain.

And then the announcer began the torturous countdown from sixty. _59...58...57...56..._ we knew we couldn't move for sixty seconds, unless, of course, you _wanted_ to be obliterated by the lands mines under your pedestal. I could see the various containers, bags, cases, and weapons that surrounded the cornucopia, and those in the very mouth. That's where the best stuff was. There, you could find a pack with enough food and water to last you weeks. While on the very perimeter, you would be lucky to come away with a stale cracker. That's how they drew you into the bloodbath.

_20...19...18..._ Launch time was near. My heartbeat jumped to my ears as I positioned myself to run. Not to the very mouth of the cornucopia, I wasn't _that_ stupid. I had actually espied a fairly sizable pack about twenty yards away. Then I remembered Bella's uncanny speed. I turned my head to her, and yes, her eyes were locked on the same pack. She could probably beat me in this short sprint. But that was fine, we were a team, so either of us grabbing the pack would be a good thing for us.

_5...4...3...2...1...LAUNCH!_

All meaning of all things at that moment thundered into nothingness. The rush of blood and wind in your ears was symbolic of the only task you had at the moment. Run. I worked my legs as hard as I could, kicking up chunks of turf as I did so. The tributes were converging on the cornucopia, as expected, the careers shot strait for the mouth. Eureka, Trigger, and Roxanne were already engaging one another.

With luck, I had beaten Bella to the pack. I bent for it and found it to be heavier than I expected. I had just hoisted it on my back when I was clobbered from the side. I collided with hard-packed earth as I looked up to see Diamond Sutra hovering over me. He wore a triumphant grin as he moved in on me, a glinting knife in one hand.

The pack had seemingly quadrupled in weight, but it gave me an idea. I shucked it off and used it as a shield against Diamond's expertly guided knife strokes. The pack was shredded and most of it's contents was spilled to the ground. Diamond quickly scooped up a spilled blanket and what looked like another knife and departed at lightning speed. I bent to retrieve what was left when suddenly, I was attacked.

The steel was cold. But it was quickly heated by the blood that had been drawn from my body. The sensation came again. My head recoiled backwards as something sharp plunged into my back. Due to the adrenaline coursing through me, the sensation was oddly painless, but I knew it wasn't harmless. I was stabbed in the back a third time as I plundered to my feet. I whirled around, and in my blurring vision I could see someone standing there, a bloody sword in their hands.

It was Bella.

She stabbed me again, this time in the stomach. "I'm _so_ sorry, Alexandre," she moaned. The tears blurred her eyes and her voice. I fell onto my back, blood loss and shock making my legs useless. Bella was on her knees, plunging her sword into my abdomen again, again, and again. I was half dead, and I barely felt a thing. "I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I'm sorry, Alexandre. _I'm so sorry…"_

I pushed up on my elbows and shot myself back into consciousness. Dazzle was cradling my head to her breast. "You were screaming," she said almost helplessly. "I tried waking you, but…"

"I'm fine," I said. I made the sign of the cross over myself and fell backwards into the bedding, hugging Dazzle close to me. The room was in a state of semi darkness. It was well after dawn, but no light shown through the windows.

"Your nightmare," Dazzle said. "Was it…?"

I nodded. Nothing need be said. Dazzle draped her naked body over mine and buried a kiss in my throat. "What time is it?" I asked her. Dazzle snapped her fingers and the darkened window projected an image of a digital clock into the room.

"Nine-thirty," she said. Launch time was to be at twelve noon. "Alexandre…"

"Shower with me," I said to her. We kicked off the thick covers, damp with sweat, (among other fluids) and padded into the lush capitol bathroom. The steaming water rolled off our bodies, taking with it layers of dried sweat, dirt, and remnants of the previous night's passion. But it couldn't take away the memory of the nightmare; not the dream, or it's real life counterpart that I was to live in just a few hours time.

Dazzle scrubbed me over with a fluffy loofah, taking particular care with my member. She kissed my neck as she massaged me well. I could feel myself stand up in her hands. She looked at me through her gorgeous green-brown eyes, (their natural color) "I think we've got time for one more," she said, propping her foot on a soap cache.

As tempting as it was, I knew I couldn't. I couldn't afford to burn the energy. I cut off the water and stepped out of the shower. We dried ourselves in the full-body blower and got re-dressed. No sooner than did we sit on the bed, a peacekeeper came through the door. "It's time," she said gruffly.

She lead us out of the room and into the corridor, where many other peacekeepers waited. I was told to move along as Dazzle was held back. "I'll see you soon," I said to her. She nodded solemnly. I walked the length of the corridor and was guided onto an elevator. It was a silent ride up to the training center's roof. There, a capitol hovercraft waited for me. This would be my transport to the arena. Once onboard, I found I was not alone. I shared this craft with eleven other tributes. I was strapped into a hard metal seat. I found myself sitting directly across from Meredith Wingstar. I averted my gaze as I craned my neck looking for Bella. She was not here. I noticed that no two tributes aboard this craft were from the same district. A nice touch by the game makers.

With a lurch, we were in the air. As there were no windows, it was impossible to tell where we were flying to. An outside view of the arena was obviously not a comfort we were allowed. A capitol woman was moving amongst the tributes now, doing something I couldn't see to each of their arms. She stopped just in front of me. "Give me your hand," she said shortly. I instinctively offered my dominant hand, the right one. The woman shook her head and signaled for my left. She locked something around my left wrist that closed with a metallic clink. It was a bracelet. It was gun-metal grey and streaked with black lines of manufactured age. And inscribed around it, in huge capital letters of blazing red, were the words DISTRICT 12 TRIBUTE.

"What's this?" I asked her.

"Your tracking bracelet," was her clipped response. "It is completely water proof, shock proof, and indestructible. Should you try to remove it-"

"I get it," I mumbled. She moved on and the rest of the ride passed in an unbearably stiff silence. We were in amongst the enemy. In no less than two hours we would all be seeing to the deaths of the very people we were sitting next to now. It was not a good feeling.

With a jolt, the hovercraft landed. The hatch opened, flooding the craft with daylight. And one by one, we were ushered off the vehicle. Being district twelve, I disembarked last. I was lead down a dizzying series of corridors. Lead right and left and right again by the pointing of a peacekeeper's gloved hand and a stern look. Being lead on and on like this, I felt about as helpless as a butterfly in a hurricane. And finally I came upon a set of oaken double doors, guarded by two peacekeepers. They pushed the doors open simultaneously and I stepped through. I was immediately blinded by artificial light. And I knew where I was. It was a seemingly endless corridor, hung on either side in regular intervals by enormous and elaborately framed oil paintings of Hunger Games victors.

They were all here, each and every champion of the past from first to last. The paintings depicted the victors in many different methods. Some wore their arena gear and held their choice weapon with a solemn expression on their faces. Others were depicted in their victory coronation ensemble; the males in shining suits; and the females in glowing gowns, each with the crown of victory atop their heads. And others still, were immortalized in a moment taken strait from the arena. Weather they were caught mid-stride as they dashed for the cornucopia, or locked in combat with another tribute; they were here now, captured forever in a moment of eternal candid ferocity.

This was the hall of champions.

I walked slowly, very slowly down the hall. This particular hall had been replicated many times throughout the years, and I knew, right at this moment, that all twenty four of us tributes were having the very same experience. The names of the thirty-two victors were as follows:

_**The 1st victor- Penn Handwright. District 1 male.**_

_**The 2**__**nd**__** victor- Fresco Hightower. District 3 male.**_

_**The 3**__**rd**__** victor- Primo Victoria. District 1 female**_

_**The 4**__**th**__** victor- Mason Stoneway. District 2 male.**_

_**The 5**__**th**__** victor- Sinclair Tryst. District 8 female.**_

_**The 6**__**th**__** victor- Lobelia Fields. District 11 female.**_

_**The 7**__**th**__** victor- Richter Magnum. District 4 male.**_

_**The 8**__**th**__** victor- Charity Bandit. District 1 female.**_

_**The 9**__**th**__** victor- Strings Quartet. District 1 male.**_

_**The 10**__**th**__** victor- Lively Graves. District 5 male.**_

_**The 11**__**th**__** victor- Barren Duster. District 6 male.**_

_**The 12**__**th**__** victor- Isabelle Ringer. District 3 female.**_

_**The 13**__**th**__** victor- Foster Maverick. District 7 male.**_

_**The 14**__**th**__** victor- Amiah Virgin. District 3 female.**_

_**The 15**__**th**__** victor- Gevurah Justice. District 2 male.**_

_**The 16**__**th**__** victor- Pastor Methodist. District 9 male.**_

_**The 17**__**th**__** victor- Angelo Esprit. District 10 male.**_

_**The 18**__**th**__** victor- Cadenza Tempest. District 4 male.**_

_**The 19**__**th**__** victor- Stanza Syllabus. District 10 male.**_

_**The 20**__**th**__** victor- Savanna Wilder. District 5 female. **_

_**The 21**__**st**__** victor- Paige Turner. District 8 male.**_

_**The 22**__**nd**__** victor- Ivory Darken. District 1 female.**_

_**The 23**__**rd**__** victor- T.G. Sadist. District 8 male.**_

_**The 24**__**th**__** victor- Dublin Cash. District 6 male.**_

_**The 25**__**th**__** victor- Serenity Riot. District 3 female.**_

_**The 26**__**th**__** victor- America Greenday. District 10 female.**_

_**The 27**__**th**__** victor- Allegra Claritin. District 9 female.**_

_**The 28**__**th**__** victor- Jester Bennington. District 5 male.**_

_**The 29**__**th**__** victor- Bunsen Berner. District 11 male.**_

_**The 30**__**th**__** victor- Lotus Evora. District 1 female.**_

_**The 31**__**st**__** victor- Riches Galore. District 1 female.**_

_**The 32nd victor- Malachi Alex-Black. District 6 male.**_

I recognize a lot of their faces, remember them from the airing and re-airing of all the past Hunger Games and various remembrance programs. Though one thing disturbed me. None of these people were from district twelve. That sure didn't help my confidence any. I left the hall of champions and was once again pointed down another series of winding corridors. I doubted I could ever find my way back on my own. And finally I arrived at what was my launch room. A peacekeeper held the door open for me. This was not a gesture of kindness, it was more like a 'You. In here. Now.' kind of thing. The door was closed behind me with a bang and I found myself alone in an unremarkable four-walled room. There was a restroom, a couch, and the foreboding glass tube that would propel me into the arena.

I wandered into the restroom and shut the door behind me. My throat was suddenly dry as paper. I looked for the sink, and didn't find any. The only tool in this room was a toilet made of silver. I wanted the sink; to use it as a last method of hydrating myself. That wasn't going to happen. I looked in a disbelieving dismay at the toilet. It looked clean enough, I guess. I wasn't provided any food or water this whole morning, and who knows when I'll be able to drink again? "Jesus Christ almighty…" I moaned. There was no other choice. I knelt down over the bowl, and before I could even think about what I was doing, puckered my lips to the water and began to drink.

At least it didn't taste like toilet water. Everything in the capitol was meticulously cleaned and cared for, their restroom facilities were no different. I stood up when I finally had my fill. I wiggled my hips and felt the water slosh around in my stomach. There. That should hold me for a few days. I left the restroom and immediately felt something tiny collide with my being. It was Dazzle. She locked her arms around my neck and I hugged her around the waist. Neither of us said anything for about a minute. Finally she let me go and said, "I don't wanna be all lame and stuff but…I know you can do it."

She meant winning. Which, deep down, wasn't something I was sure I could do. I just looked back to her, deep into those remarkably reflective eyes of hers. What a beautiful woman she was. It's a shame that only the Hunger Games had drawn us together; because under normal circumstances, I would never known this incredible person even existed. Dazzle. So clever, confident, and gorgeous. And that's when I felt it. All the humanity that I refused to acknowledge for the past six years coming to the surface. It was a strange feeling. And apparently, only Dazzle could have drawn it out of me. Then again, I guess this to be expected. This could well be my last day alive; I would probably die in less than an hour. This was simply my mortality, making a final, forlorn showing. Looking for that one last bit of human discourse.

And then Dazzle started crying. "Am I being selfish?" she choked.

"Why would you think that?" I asked.

"It just doesn't seem right," she sobbed. "Me falling in love with you, knowing full well…"

"Stop it," I told her. "You don't think I asked myself that same question? I was full of doubt myself, before I realized that this feeling belongs to me. Not the capitol, but to _me_. They try to rule everything in our lives; control our every action; our every emotion. But there are some things that they can't control." I caressed her heart-shaped face with a gentle finger, as though it were a fragile thing that would crack under too much pressure.

Dazzle kissed me with a delicate conviction and whispered, "I love you, Alexandre."

"And I love you, Dazzle." There. I said it. "There is just one thing I want to know…"

"Anything," she whispered.

"How old are you?"

Dazzle's tear streaked face broke into a smile. "I'm twenty, you asshole." So, she was older than me after all. Dazzle then went to the couch and brought over my jacket that I would wear in the arena. I slipped it on and rotated my shoulders to test the fit. It was jet-black and matched my arena ensemble that I dressed in this morning; sturdy black boots with tough soles that laced up to my ankles; black pants that were made of canvas; and a simple long-sleeved black shirt. She zippered me into the jacket and then we just hugged each other close until that familiar automated voice chimed in. "_Thirty seconds to launch."_

Dazzle framed my face with her hands and spoke with a sudden urgency, "It's never too late, Alexandre, to change everything you are, and everything you were."

"I don't have much of a choice," I said back. "My last chance has arrived."

"_Twenty seconds to launch."_

"You just got to be the best," Dazzle said. "I know you can do it."

"Yeah. Hard times are ahead," I said back.

"_Ten seconds to launch."_

Dazzle and I turned to the glass tube. I doubted my legs would hold up on the trip across the room, but somehow, they did. I entered the terrifyingly claustrophobic tube and the glass instantly shut around me. Dazzle pressed her hand to the glass and I met it with my own. She said something to me, but the tube had cut off all sound from the room. And then I was being lifted. Lifted into the arena of death and nightmares. The view of the launch room faded and I was washed in darkness. And then in those moments right there, I knew what Dazzle had said.

"Come back to me."

*End of Chapter 10*

**A/N: Okay, now I know what you're all thinking. 'Who the hell are all those people? Those…victors?' Yes, I am aware that all the usual suspects are missing, and none of the names correspond to the Hunger Games cannon. Just remember that this is **MY** version of the Hunger Games; same universe; different take. Hell, even in my synopsis it says ORIGINAL CHARACTERS. Just in case someone feels the need to point any of this out.**

**Anyway a thanks for the members and guests who gave this a read. I'll be sure to keep it moving along.**

**- B.D. Skunkworks **


	11. Chapter 11- Uphill, both ways

Chapter 11

*Uphill, both ways*

I was aware of only two things; the darkness and the eternity of the elevator ride. I kept my hands at my sides, refraining from touching the moving walls of the tube. And then I was pushed into the air. A breeze crossed my face and slightly stung my eyes. At first I thought I was still in the tunnel; I still couldn't see. And then I realized what the problem was.

It was pitch howling night time.

This was a first in Games history; the Games starting at night. On my right was an ocean. I could hear and smell the salt-rich waves. I was on the far right of the arc that the tributes formed. On my immediate left was Cypress Dogwood. Left of him was Toro Hornstead. We exchanged quick frightened glances, their eyes wide as they tried to work out the situation. We were in order from district one to twelve, or, starting from my position, twelve to one. Then I realized something was wrong. Counting the tributes here, including myself, we only totaled twelve. It occurred to me that none of the female tributes were here. Where had they gone to? Another part of the arena?

And just then, from directly below each of the pedestals, shot a bright white light. Each of us tributes now was granted the full-body equivalent of the eerie effect of holding a flashlight under your face while telling a child a scary story.

And then the amplified voice of Claudius Templesmith boomed throughout the arena. "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE TIME HAS COME! AND NOW, MAY THE THIRTY-THIRD ANNUAL HUNGER GAMES BEGIN!"

I knew then that I had sixty seconds to form a battle plan. _"30.…29.…28.…27.…"_ What!? _Only thirty seconds this year!? _The game makers were doing everything they could to throw off our senses. Then I looked to the cornuco…. Wait a second… that isn't the cornucopia. What the hell is that? In place of the usual golden horn, there was something else. I could best describe it as some kind of…structure. It was much like a small building. It appeared to have two levels and an opening in the front, which served as the entrance. And just there in the entryway, I could see dozens of weapons hanging on the walls. There was no doubt that more were hidden inside. The usual stash of lesser supplies circled the structure, all washed in an eerie artificial light.

"…_19...18...17...16..."_

I looked around the stash for something I could possibly come away with. I spotted a black backpack not too far from my position. Perfect. I positioned my feet to run as I made the sign of the cross over myself. _"…Praying to god won't keep me alive…Into the head feel the fear start to rise…" _And then there was a bang. I thought it was the signal and nearly flew off my pedestal. I listened to the echo and realized that whatever it was, it had come from a long way off; probably from the other side of the mountain that was to the rear of this arc of tributes.

"_10...9...8...7...6..."_

This was it. No more talk; no more fluff. Gone with the fancy costumes and clever senses of humor. We all knew it was coming to this. In the following weeks to come, twenty-three of were going to die. The last thought I had was of Dazzle.

"…_3...2...1...LAUNCH!"_

I rocketed off my pedestal and pumped my legs as hard as I could. The distance to the pack was a mere thirty yards, but with death even closer, it felt like a mile. The careers had already reached the structure. Fuck, they were fast. Diamond Sutra and Trigger Suresight were fighting back-to-back, forming a shield around the entrance to the structure. I managed to reach the pack with little incident. I grabbed it with one hand and made to turn and run into the wilderness, when I met with a powerful fist right to my jaw. The world spun as I struggled to clear my concussed brain. I regained enough sense to learn that I was being attacked by Rye Waverly. He knocked me to the ground and tried to wrestle the pack from my grip. He wasn't strong, but he had surprise on his side. His elbow dug violently into my face, pinning my head to the ground. My right hand was locked on the pack, the other around Rye's throat. I managed to work my right leg loose from under his body and brought it strait up into his groin. He whimpered and crumpled instantly. I rolled free and made a mad dash for the perimeter. I stopped just at the line of pedestals and turned to survey the carnage.

I'm glad I was so far away as I was. The death screams of the suffering tributes, the clangs of metallic weaponry, the shouts of conviction from those left standing at the bloodbath, it was making my blood turn cold. Several tributes lay dead all around the structure. Even in the wash of the spotlights, I couldn't tell who they may be, especially from this distance.

I turned and ran. I kept one hand on the face of the enormous mountain, it was that close. I soon learned that the territory was very uneven. I was constantly walking on a slant, then uphill, then downhill. I passed a few trees on my trip. They were numerous, but too loosely bunched to be considered a forest, or even a patch of woods. I could still hear the ocean on the other side of this expanse, but I didn't want to give up my good cover at the base of this mountain to go investigate.

And finally, with my lungs and legs aching, I collapsed on a flat white rock. I pulled the pack from my back and set about sorting what was inside. There was a small fishing net, and extra jacket not unlike the one I was wearing, a working flashlight with batteries, a roll of gauze bandages, a sealed bag of trail mix, and, yes! A canteen, filled with water! I piled the supplies back in the bag, leaving out the canteen and the trail mix. Though I was panting and sweating from exertion, I didn't even think about drinking a single drop of my precious water, not just yet.

I was taking a moment to do mental inventory when there was a sharp _BOOM!_ from an undetectable source. I knew it to be the sound of a tribute's cannon. The fighting at the bloodbath must finally be over, now it was time for the body count. I tallied off the cannon shots on my fingers. Five…six…seven… I wondered with a certain dismay, if one of the cannons was for Bella. _"To just survive the fist day; that would be victory to me, you know."_ She said that to me in the training center. So did she live, to fulfill her own personal victory? Eight…nine…Ten… the cannons stopped. Ten dead in all. That's gotta be an all-time low; the bloodbath victims usually number in the low teens. This was going to be an eventful Games.

The thought that crossed my mind now was that of sleep. Though I was still too wired right now for a real attempt. The game makers were obviously trying to throw off our neurotics clocks. Sleep is supposed to come with the night, but seeing as the Games _started_ at night, is sleep even a possibility? Or maybe it's early morning, just before sunrise? Either way, I may be looking at twelve hours of nervous jeopardy here, but I'm sure I'll be awake for all of them.

And then the sky came to life. The seal of the capitol was projected like a night time sun for all to see. It was accompanied by the anthem of Panem, " Horn of plenty my ass," I muttered. This was the official carnage report. No doubt that the twenty-eight eyes that remain alive are all plastered on the projection in the sky. I made the sign of the cross over myself and watched to see if Bella was still amongst the living.

…...

*Bella's Bloodbath*

It was dark, very dark. The only thing that reminded me that it wasn't a solid darkness was the accompaniment of the constant mechanical whir of the elevator tube. My heart rate rose along with my platform and then, with no preamble, I was pushed into the arena. The first thing I learned that it was still dark. My eyes were open, so why couldn't I see? Oh, wait a minute, is it night time? This was definitely a new twist. I remembered just then overhearing a conversation between two peacekeepers in the training center's elevator that morning. They spoke of some sort of "surprise" for the tributes this year.

I knew that quick adaptation was the key to my survival, so I turned my head to survey my surroundings. I was very near an ocean, the waves crashed and broke onto the grassy shore, in the distance, just past a large structure, was a waterfall. Hey. That structure; isn't that were the cornucopia is supposed to be? I saw the ring of supplies around it, but the horn was nowhere to be seen.

And then I was blinded by an intense white light that shone from below my platform. I saw the other platforms flare up around me. I made a quick eye contact with the tribute on my immediate left, Conifer Daily. She looked terrified, which was good. All the less likely she was to run into the bloodbath, giving me one less opponent to worry about. And then the voice of Claudius Templesmith resonated around us, "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE TIME HAS COME! AND NOW, MAY THE THIRTY-THIRD ANNUAL HUNGER GAMES BEGIN!"

"_30...29...28...27...26..."_ Wait a minute, did I miss something? I thought we had _sixty_ seconds? No. I couldn't let them throw me off, I had to stay focused. I looked around the ring of tributes, hoping to see Alexandre, and then I learned another detail. There were only girls here. This didn't make sense, why would they separate us like this?

"_20...19...18...17..."_

Looking down the lighted arc of tributes I learned we were in order from twelve to one. I wanted to get a sense of how they were reacting to these changes; to gauge who would possibly be the biggest threat at the moment. And then I looked into the eyes of the district eight girl, Sunny Undershade. I'll never forget what I saw there. She stared me right in the eye, not with a panicked fright, not with a steely confidence, but with a withdrawn, forlorn resolution. Her eyes were empty, but at the same time very focused. She gave me the tinniest of tiny smiles…and stepped right off her pedestal.

I never knew how powerful the pedestal mines were until that moment. There was an earth-shattering eruption of dirt and the charred remains of the desperate girl. The tributes nearest her were showered with dirt, debris, and the blood of Sunny Undershade. A bloodbath before the bloodbath.

"_10...9...8...7..."_

I was somewhat shocked, but I had to tell myself this was a good thing, one less tribute between me and going home to Rorick. My stomach twisted longingly at the thought of him. I remember us making love the night before the reaping. And then him telling me that he would do anything for me, no matter the cost. I would do the same for Rorick; anything. And if that meant killing twenty-two other people, then so be it. And then the thought of Alexandre flashed briefly in my mind. Wait, why did that happen? I wouldn't have the time to think about it.

"_3...2...1...LAUNCH!"_

I raced from my platform as fast as my trembling legs would let me. I didn't have a battle plan, I was more or less winging here. There was a stash of fairly choice supplies about twenty yards in; I dashed for those. But then, something caught my eye. It was no more than a black blur, but then I saw that it was Persephone Redfield. My god, she was fast! She moved with the speed of some depraved demon, and in a flash, she snatched up a bow, a quiver of arrows and a tiny pack and was off into the wilderness.

The next thing I saw, was grass. My eyes were trained on Persephone and I hadn't seen the spear that I had evidently tripped over. I fell hard, my chest taking the worst of the impact. I spit long grass and dirt from my mouth, grabbed the spear and darted for the perimeter. What luck! I had escaped the bloodbath unharmed. I passed the line of pedestals and across a grassy knoll. Suddenly, there were rapid footfalls behind me. I whirled around and came face to face with Roxanne Maestro. Her dark hair was disheveled and a shallow gash ran along her forehead. "Hey, twelve," she panted.

We were at a stand off. Both of were breathing heavy, but I'm sure Roxanne still had enough stamina for another fight. Her eyes darted nervously to my spear. She saw what I could do in training, and as she was weaponless, she knew better than to cross me. I jabbed my weapon at her. She flinched and swore, and then ran off. I continued slowly along the grassy stretch. It was so dark here at night. This is what the world must have looked like before light pollution.

I continued on my way for some time, I hadn't heard any cannons yet, could the fighting still be going on? I took note of the enormous mountain that was at my left. I used it as a bearing as I continued uphill. And then I heard something. No, it was more like _someone_. Whoever they were, they sounded like they may be injured. I heard sounds of a labored gait and constant soft whimpering. I slowed my pace as I stalked slowly around the corner. Yes, there was definitely someone, limping along with their hand on the face of the mountain to steady themselves. I took another step and a twig snapped sharply under my boot. The tribute whirled their head around and I saw that it was Lily Amberseed. "Oh, god," she whimpered and she began hobbling as fast as she could to get away. Her left leg was clearly injured; she could barely put any weight on it.

She took a faulty step and collapsed to the ground with a shriek. I moved in on her slowly. Lily was on her back, her terrified eyes locked on me as she cradled her damaged left leg. She had been cut just above her thigh. I knew from training that some kind major artery ran there. I hovered over her with the spear. Lily held up a trembling hand. "No don't do it, please!" she pleaded as tears of terror rolled down her face. I stared at her now, and wondered if I could do it. Could I take another human life? I didn't want to, but god only knows I have to. For me. For Rorick….for Rorick. I raised the spear. "_Please!_" Lily was in hysterics. A dark stain was spreading from the crotch of her pants. It wasn't blood.

I shut out the terrible humanity of her cries and plunged the spear into Lily's throat. I yanked it out with some little difficulty and moved on as quickly as I could, leaving her to choke out the last of her life under the cloudless sky.

I continued on my way wondering if at all possible that Alexandre had survived the first day. It was obvious now that there had been _two_ bloodbaths this year, which was sure to titillate the capitol audience. I stopped when I found myself at the top of a small bluff. I was still surrounded by tall, rocky formations. I cast a look down the hill and saw a bridge there. This bridge was not normal. It looked to be made of grey-white metal and it connected this stretch of land with the next. I could hear the lap of the seas' waves a good deal below. What was really strange about this thing was that on either side of the spans it connected were devices that emitted some kind of…energy? Is that what they call it? It was more like a sort of light; electric blue in color and was thrumming toward the other side of the bridge.

I moved closer to examine it. I heard a low hum coming from the device. Just what was this thing? I was saved, or rather _kept_ from further contemplation by the sudden _BOOM!_ of what was the first tribute cannon. I stopped dead as I listened to the shots fired. Four…five…six…Please let Alexandre have made it. I know I shouldn't be thinking this. His death at the hands of another would actually be a mercy to me; saving me the agony of possibly having to dispatch him myself, _if_ it came to that. On the other hand, he was my ally, we needed to combine our strengths in order to survive against the more powerful opponents. Eight…nine…ten…that was all. Good god. Fourteen tributes remaining. I definitely had my work cut out for me.

And then there was the commotion in the sky, the enormous projection of the capitol's seal in the night sky. It was time for the body count. I grit my teeth as I turned to see the faces of the departed in the heavens.

**Ilene Southworth- district two**

**Fiddler Goodman- district three **

**Sullivan Highwind- district four**

**Meredith Wingstar- district six **

**Juniper Fade- district seven**

**Sunny Undershade- district eight**

**Lily Amberseed- district nine**

**Wynn Parish- district ten**

**Conifer Daily- district eleven**

**Cypress Dogwood- district eleven**

So that was that. I let out a breath I didn't realize that I was holding. So Alexandre made it. Part of me was relived, another part was…I shook my head and cast my thoughts forward. Some of the faces of the weaker tributes were up as expected, but seeing Ilene Southworth up there, _that_ was a surprise, but one less highly trained career to face down. I of course now wanted to find Alexandre. What kind of shape was he in? Had he been injured in the initial fighting? And of course, there was my own sake to worry about; finding food, fresh water, a place to sleep, and the thirteen other tributes. My prospects didn't look good in either case. I just accepted the fact that it was going to be an uphill battle, both ways.

And then, feeling the weight of the capitol audience's eyes on me, I crossed the bridge into the next phase of the Hunger Games.

*End of Chapter 11*

**A/N- Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! How long have I been gone? *counts days on fingers. Runs out of fingers, uses toes* Aw, fuck it. Suffice it to say it's been **_**too**_** long. I can't say that too much was keeping me busy (even though Halo 4 is one heluva distraction!) I put down my inactivity to plain ol' slackin' **

**I was going through my email account and noticed a new review for my other story, **_**The Angel and the Saint**_**, whoever they were, they loved it, and **_**DEMANDED**_** that I update soon. So of course I was galvanized back into action. I typed this chapter here in a good one hour sitting, and I guess now I need to go back to my other work. So it's back to the multiverse, see ya there.**

**-B.D. Skunkworks**


End file.
